#honestly at the moment i’m just trying to do things so that i know if i still feel shit it’s not because of any of those things

[harrysfolklore]

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while. 

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

[l3viat8an]

Mammon waking you up by going down on you (with prev consent ofc) or you waking Mammon up with a BJ >_<

Nsfw!

Honestly thought this posted already- cuz it was supposed to be in queue for Mams birthday jsksjsk

I feel like that would happen all the time after you start dating Mammon! I mean he just can’t get enough of you and it is a rather nice way to wake up~

And really some mornings he gets so needy and you look so sweet laying there next to him that he just can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

At first Mammon was just planning to kiss you, a few kisses down your neck and chest wouldn’t hurt right?- then he starts going lower, moving your clothes out of the way so he can keep kissing your skin, down across your chest and tummy and somehow he ends up between your legs… oops~

You wake up slowly, your mind groggy with sleep and pleasure as your eyes open and all you can see of your boyfriend is a lump under the covers. But as soon as you wake up and start grinding your hips to meet his face a little harder Mammon grabs your hips to pin you back down. At the same time he lifts his head to look up at you, which makes the covers fall back a bit so you can see his face, (his hair is an absolute mess too but that’s not super important :D) a crooked little smirk on Mammon’s face as he sits up enough to press a few more soft and wet kiss across your tummy. Mumbling out “Mornin’ darlin’.” against your skin before he goes right back to what he was doing- making you cum on his face-

He thinks its cute how you try to prop yourself up a bit on your elbows to look down at him and enjoy the show, chuckling to himself as he sucks on your clit just right, that it has your head rolling back and you have to plop right back down onto the pillows because it felt that good.  After all he knows all your sweet spots.

Neither of you talk much but Mammon would praise you for being so good and cummin’ for him, ya should let him take care of ya more often~

Sooo of course it’s only right that you ‘repay him’ wake him up head the next morning.  

Again not hard Mammon almost always has ‘morning wood’ when you sleep in the same bed.

While you’re under the covers tease his tip a bit -trust me- before taking his cock all the way into your mouth.

As soon as you start Mammon’s awake and you can hear all his breathlessly, little moans of “Yea~” and “Oh fuck, yes darlin’, just like that” I’m telling you he can’t keep his mouth shut- “S-shit- Don’t stop fuck.” and even more, “Please- Yea, like that, faster.”

There is a special something -not quite tenderness but that’s the closest word you can think of- to Mammon in these moments. Even as you have his cock in your mouth, even as he groans under his breath and his legs tense. Even as he grabs a handful of your hair and gently pushes you down a little bit to see if you can take him even further down your throat, he’s not trying to be mean but he loves it when you gag on him. Making him moan even louder “Shit- So fuckin’ g-good treasure.” as he cums down your throat.

Maybe it’s the way he smooths over your hair as you swallow his cum. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to pull you up to lay your head on his chest and wraps his arms around you as tightly as he can immediately after. It’s all done with care, as if you’re the most precious thing in his room. And of course to him you are.

(Although if you wanna tease Mammon a little more instead- sit up before he can pull you up and let the covers pool around you as you make a show of licking the last few drops of his cum off your lips ;))

[itneverendshere]

you going to jj’s little graduation, and you’re giving proud mom. even if he’s towering over you in his cap, and you’re pinching his cheeks, and as always rafes in awe of how much of natural caretaker

i'm a sucker for these three dynamic 😭😭😭😭 so i also added a little kie bc jj deserves all the teasing in the world after he made rafe's life miserable the past year🤭 hope you enjoy!🩵🫂

you've got no reason to be afraid - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe never wanted to go to this thing.

No, really. It wasn’t even one of those "I don’t wanna go, but deep down I actually care" moments. He genuinely didn’t want to show up.

Because honestly, why the hell was he going to JJ Maybank's graduation?

You dragged him here, and yeah, he was pretending to hate it every second of it, but...okay, maybe he was…a little proud of the guy for making it out alive. Sue him.

You’re buzzing around like a proud mom, and it’s almost hard to look at. Not because it’s annoying—okay, maybe it’s a little annoying—but more because it’s… god, he doesn’t even know. It’s just you.

You can’t help it. The whole natural caretaker thing, how you swoop in and take care of people like you’re born to do it. 

Rafe’s leaning against the wall while you’re annoying JJ, pinching his cheeks like he's still that scrappy little kid you saved from his old man’s rage. His stupid graduation cap keeps sliding off his head, and every time you fix it, he grins like an idiot.

The guy's taller than you, but it’s almost like it doesn’t matter. 

"You’re not gonna cry, are you?" JJ teases, standing there in his cap and gown like some kinda of scholar. It's hard to take it seriously, to be honest. 

You roll your eyes at him, "Shut up, Maybank. I’m allowed to be proud of you." You reach up again, smoothing down the collar of his gown, and it hits Rafe how much you care about this. 

He crosses his arms tighter over his chest, trying his best not to look too invested in the scene playing out in front of him. You’re still fussing over JJ, like some proud older sister at her little brother’s first big milestone, and Rafe… well, he’s trying not to roll his eyes for the third time in five minutes.

He pushes off the wall, just enough to glance at his phone, scrolling through his notifications to look busy, like he’s not watching this whole thing happen. He catches a glimpse of you laughing—JJ making some dumb joke about how he can’t believe he even graduated in the first place.

He didn’t get it at first. How could someone who’s been through what you’ve been through still have the energy to care about people like this?

Especially about someone like JJ? The scrappy, no-good kid from The Cut who spent more time getting into fights and drinking than actually passing his classes. But that’s the thing about you—you never gave up on people, even when everyone else had.

"You’re staring," you tease, glancing back at him with a grin, breaking his train of thought. "You okay over there, baby?"

Rafe straightens up, wiping the expression off his face before you can see too much. He’s quick to shrug, playing it off like he’s too cool to care about whatever’s going on. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mutters, locking his phone and slipping it back in his pocket. "Just wondering how long this is gonna take."

"Uh-huh." You’re not buying it for a second, but you let it slide. You know him better than anyone else, after all, “Get your ass here. We’re taking a picture.”

He sighs, letting out a dramatic huff like this is the worst thing he’s ever been asked to do. "You serious?" he groans, but he’s already pushing himself off the wall and walking over to where you’re standing with JJ.

“Dead serious,” you shoot back, giving him that look—the one that always gets him to do what you want, even when he’s trying to act like he’s above it.

JJ’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that says he knows Rafe’s just playing tough. He slings an arm over your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Rafe’s eyes narrow, his possessiveness showing before he can even stop himself.

“Relaaaax, man,” JJ teases, catching the look. “You’re gonna burst a vein.”

He rolls his eyes but steps closer, standing right beside you as you hand your phone to some random kid to take the picture. The three of you huddle together and you pull Rafe in by his shirt, snuggling into his side like you always do, and despite himself, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. Not enough for anyone else to notice—he’s too stubborn for that—but you feel it.

You always do.

The camera clicks, and just like that, the moment’s captured—JJ in his stupid graduation gear, you looking like a proud mom, and Rafe standing there like he’s not sure how he ended up a part of this weird little family, but maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with it.

“Alright, picture’s done. Can we leave now?” Rafe grumbles, already half-turned toward the parking lot.

You step in front of him to block his way. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. We’re going to the party.” Your voice has that no-nonsense tone, the one that makes him groan because he knows you mean business.

JJ laughs again, clapping Rafe on the back. “C’mon, man. You can survive a couple hours with us. Plus, there’s free beer.”

He arches a brow. “Free beer?”

“Yep. Keg’s already set up back at John B’s place,” JJ says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fine,” Rafe groans, but he doesn’t actually mind. Not when you’re looking at him like that—like he’s the only thing you want standing next to you, even if it’s at some ridiculous party in the Cut. In his little sister’s boyfriends house of all places. Sarah and John B’s on-again, off-again thing is enough drama for one lifetime.

 “But I’m not carrying your ass home when you get shitfaced.”

JJ smirks, patting his gown. “I’ll be fine, man. I graduated today. I’m an adult now.”

Rafe snorts. “Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

You’re already pulling Rafe toward the car, glancing back at JJ with a grin. “Come on. Let’s celebrate while you still have time to pretend you’re responsible.”

JJ’s talking a mile a minute, the entire drive, from the backseat, already planning out how he’s going to "run the party" and bragging about the free booze like it’s the highlight of his life. Rafe tunes most of it out, too focused on you, the warmth of your hand lingering even after you’ve let go. By the time you pull up to John B’s place, the sun’s starting to set and the yard is already half full with the Pogues. Kie’s there, Sarah too, probably.

You park, and before Rafe can even make a move, JJ’s already jumped out, tossing his cap onto the grass as he heads toward the keg. "Let’s get this party started bitches!" he shouts, and the small crowd cheers in response.

Great.

He climbs out of the car, walking around to meet you on the driver’s side. “You sure about this?” he asks, glancing toward the crowd. He’s not exactly best friends with these guys, and parties in the Cut… well, they’re not really his scene.

But you smile up at him, reaching for his hand and threading your fingers through his. "Yeah, I’m sure. You’ll survive, baby.”

He huffs, but when you start pulling him toward the party, he lets you. He always lets you. You weave your way through the small crowd of pogues, most of whom nod or wave at him but don’t bother trying to talk to him. 

You glance back, grinning as you lead the way toward the makeshift party area. “You’re not gonna hide in the corner the whole time, are you?” you tease, giving his hand a playful squeeze.

Rafe rolls his eyes but follows you, his free hand shoving into his pocket. “No promises,” he says, though a small part of him is already resigning to the fact that you’re probably going to drag him into the middle of everything by the end of the night.

Everything's already in full swing by the time you both find a spot near the keg. JJ’s surrounded by a group of people, handing out beers like it’s his personal mission to get everyone drunk. John B and Sarah are off to the side, leaning against the porch railing, sharing a laugh. Disgusting.

You flash him a smile before heading off to grab drinks, leaving him standing awkwardly near the keg, trying his best to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

He’s mid-scroll on his phone again when he hears JJ’s voice call out, “Yo, Rafe!”

Rafe glances up, already preparing himself for whatever shit JJ’s about to throw his way.

“Don’t tell me you’re just gonna stand there like some grumpy old man. You’re at my graduation party, man! You gotta at least try to have fun.” JJ’s grinning from ear to ear, clearly already a few beers in.

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “I’m here, aren’t I? That’s gotta count for something.”

JJ laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Just didn’t think I’d see Rafe Cameron at a pogue party, y'know?”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face."

JJ grins again, but there’s something a little more genuine in his expression this time. “For real though, man. Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t your scene.”

Rafe’s about to answer with his usual sarcasm, but he catches the sincerity in JJ’s tone and decides to let it slide. He nods, his voice gruff as he says, “Yeah. Congrats, Maybank. You deserve it.”

JJ’s grin widens, and he raises his beer in a mock toast. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

Before he can say anything else, you’re back with two beers in hand, nudging one toward him. “Here you go. Now you’ve got no excuse to look so miserable.”

Rafe takes the beer from you with a half-smirk, but his eyes are soft as he glances down at you. “I don’t look miserable.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Sure.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. It’s cheap, of course, and not exactly his taste, but he doesn’t complain. Not when you’re standing so close, looking up at him like you can see right through all his bullshit. He watches you for a moment, the way you light up around these people, the way you float between them like you’re the glue holding everyone together does something to his heart.

Rafe leans back, his arm draped loosely around your waist as you chat with Kie and JJ, laughing at some dumb story JJ’s telling about getting caught sneaking into class late one too many times. He can’t help but wonder how you do it. The nights you spent bailing JJ out when his dad got too wasted and violent. How you’d sneak him into your place, covering up the bruises and making sure he had somewhere to crash for the night.

“Hey,” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “You okay? You’re staring again.”

Rafe blinks, realizing he’s been zoning out, watching you again. “Yeah,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Just thinking.”

You tilt your head, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “About?”

“How much I love you.”

JJ gags, “Shut the fuck up.”

Kie slaps him in the back, “Shut up, it’s cute.”

Rafe lets out a low chuckle, glancing over at JJ. "Jealous, Maybank?"

JJ takes a long swig of his beer, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I’m not jealous of your sappy shit.”

“Sure you’re not,” He drawls, leaning back with a smirk. “Not like you’ve been drooling over Kie all year or anythin’.”

Kie’s eyes widen, her face flushing just enough to make it obvious, “What the hell are you talking about?” She shoots Rafe a glare, but there’s no real venom behind it.

His grin only widens. “Oh, come on. You think I haven’t noticed? You two have been dancing around each other for what, months now?”

JJ chokes on his beer, coughing. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s not—”

But Rafe’s not letting up. He’s enjoying this way too much. “Dude, just admit it. You’ve been into her forever, and honestly, we’re all sick of watching you act like you don’t.”

Kie crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You’re sick of it?”

“Yeah,” Rafe deadpans, “Everyone knows. Hell, even John B probably knows, and that guy’s oblivious to everything except Sarah.”

JJ groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “You’re seriously gonna make this about me?”

“Yep,” Rafe grins, “Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

He knows Rafe’s just messing with him. He’s been down bad for Kie for as long as he can remember, but every time he gets close, something stops him. The friendship, the fear of messing it up, maybe just the fact that he doesn’t think he deserves her. Rafe’s seen it all before.

Kie, for her part, just rolls her eyes. “Boys are so fucking dumb.”

You laugh, nudging Rafe in the ribs. “Stop torturing him. It’s his big day.”

Rafe huffs, a smirk still playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, if I had to deal with all the crap about you and me, it’s only fair he gets his turn.”

“Yeah, well, maybe JJ needs a little push,” you glance between the two of them. “You gonna make a move, Maybank? Or you planning on dragging this out for another year?”

JJ looks at you, then at Kie, then back at Rafe, who’s clearly enjoying every second of this. “You guys suck,” he mutters, grabbing another beer and stalking off toward the keg, leaving Kie standing there, cheeks still a little red, though she’s doing her best to look unbothered.

Rafe watches him go, then turns back to Kie. “He’s a mess, but you already know that.”

Kie sighs, shaking her head. “Yeah, I do.” Her voice softens,“But he’s my mess, I guess.”

You smile, giving Kie a knowing look. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

Kie glares at you playfully, but there’s no hiding the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh, shut up.”

[romana-after-dark]

Be Quiet: 3

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. You open up to Logan. Present. Logan opens up to you

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.8 words

Before

Logan had tried to do as Charles requested. Tried. Honestly, he had but the place wasn’t THAT fucking big, and he kept running into you during all the times it was least oppretune, all the times he was aching for touch and tenderness as the soft skin only you could provide.

And he missed you. That little trip to the store had sent something burning in his, a spark of joy that ignited in his body that maybe this time, you would be different, everything could be different. You were fun, gentle, kind and soft and passive… He thought of how you were so scared of the man, he felt your fear drumming in your heart and at the moment all that mattered was protecting you. Still, you didn’t want him to hurt the man. Empathetic little thing.

Glancing up to find your eyes on him at diner hurt so much he tried to keep his eyes trained on the food at all times. He tried not leave his room for fear of running into you in the hall. Hell, sometimes he didn’t even want to be in the house because he could fucking smell you. He could smell when you were ovulating and on your period, in tune to everything you did despite trying to avoid you, leaving him him alone in his room to fuck his fist day after day, hour after hour humping a pillow because he couldn’t control himself like a horny teenager.

And Remy was no fucking help.

“Logan!” He called from down the hall. “I need a favor.”

He rolled his eyes. “Awful lot of favors with you, huh?”

Remy LeBeau laughed as if it was a joke. It wasn’t, Remy’s ‘favor’ had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

“I am supposed to eat lunch with notre ami,” he says with a smirk that makes Logan assume he’s not talking about Jean or Emma or Ellie. “But I’m afraid I’ve been called in another direction.”

“Is the other direction some girl’s pussy?”

A glint in his eyes. “Some man’s pussy, to be specific, cher, but a gentleman never tells. Anyway, I need you to let her know I can’t make it, send my apologies.” Remy already started walking away. 

Logan half shouts down the hall. “What, are you two going on dates now?”

“What’s it to you?”

Logan was fuming, absolutely livid. You and Remy? Fuck no. Not a chance in the world. Well sure, it would make sense. Remy was soft, kind, funny. He knew how to romance a girl. Or a guy. Or whatever it was he was sticking his dick into. He could wine and dine and woo his way into those little dresses with the right words, the right touches… He could be friendly, nice… but Remy LeBeau is not the kind of man to settle down. He’s a slut. You? You are a romantic, he could tell. Young and innocent and still believing in true love and Remy was the kind of guy to make you fall for it. Not intentionally…. Probably… but Remy didn’t understand you. Not like Logan did.

So, despite not telling Remy he would deliver the message, he went to find your classroom anyway.

*

It was early in the semester still, but fall was beginning to creep in on the New England days. Still, it was lovely out and the smell of oak made you happy, so you cracked a window. Air was good for the kids. 

You had an upper level class, literature, and were just finishing the discussion of The Count of Monte Christo. 

When you hear the door open, you expected Remy but instead saw Logan. This surprised you, considering how obvious it was he had been avoiding you, you give him a warm smile and turn back to your class who were just beginning a brand new discussion.

“But I don’t think he’s motivated by revenge, he’s motivated by love!” A young girl argues with her classmate.

“He killed people, Jess.”

You clapped your hands together, “Guys I’m so sorry but that’s our time! As much as I’m sure you’d rather skip lunch and discuss Dante’s true motivation,  I have to let you go. Come prepared to pick this right up tomorrow!” You said, thrilled this has gone so well. 

Students grab their things and file out, several saying good day and several more staring at Logan as they passed. Logan glared at one particularly bug eyed boy.

“Logan.” You call his attention from the kid, and as Logan steps to your desk the door shuts behind you. You gesture to a chair near the front of the class. “Forgive me, but my feet hurt from standing. Is it alright if I eat?”

“Of course.” He hurries to answer, scrambling around the desk to pull out your chair. He’d be damned if he was outdone by Remy. His movements were awkward and clunky. Logan wasn’t an animal, he was raised to be a proper high society man, and even though he left home young, he lived during much more… polite eras than now. While he preferred to live more rustic, he knew how to be a gentleman.

You smile up at him from the chair, thanking him quietly. Logan pulls up a chair to the front, sitting with you. 

“Remy ain’t coming.” He blurts out, ready to break the news of the date as bluntly as possible to make him look worse, but when he saw the worry on your face he read your mind. “He had to go take care of business, he’s fine though.” Watching the relief on your face made him annoyingly jealous. “Sorry he had to miss your uh…” Logan glanced around the room. “Date, I guess.”

He likes hearing you giggle, even if he thinks it might be at him. “Did he call it a date?”

“Well… no…” Why did he feel so flustered with you?

“Good. It’s hardly a date. I have higher standards than sharing a sandwich in my classroom.” Despite his protests, you lay half your sandwich on his side of the desk. He couldn't say no to you. “Remy eats lunch with me sometimes, keeps me company. As a friend, if you were wondering.”

He was.

There was a comfortable silence as Logan ate the sandwich you gave me, doing everything he could to not hum as he delighted in it. How did you make a simple caprese sandwich taste so good? How did he get roped into sharing a meal with you when he was supposed to keep his distance?

“You’re good with them.” He mumbles with his mouth half full. When you look up with confusion he elaborates. “The kids, I mean. They like you. I can see it, and I’ve heard others talking.”

This makes you blush, looking away as you deflect the compliment. “Thank you, it’s probably the only thing I’m qualified to do.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Were you a teacher before you came here?”

“I wasn’t anything before I came here.”

Logan gestured for you to continue, so you set  down your sandwich and cleared your throat, still looking down. “I’m not really qualified to be here, honestly… It’s not like a secret or anything but… it’s not exactly something I’m shouting from the rooftops so… I mean you don’t gotta lie or anything…”

“I won’t say anything” His voice was soft, comforting. He made you trust him, so you let it all out.

“I didn’t graduate high school.” You fidget with the hem of the flower print dress that went past your knees. “I got married at 16.” When you glance up, you’re expecting to see his weirded out, uncomfortable, or maybe even disgust at you. Instead he looked concerned. 

“Jesus, doll. How the hell was that legal?”

You explain. “With parental consent and judicial approval, you can get married pretty young. My parents knew the judge.”

“And your parents were okay with this?”

Logan wasn’t stupid, he’s 200 years old and has seen plenty of teenagers getting married, but it wasn’t as common as you might think. By the time he was coming of age, marriage age, even for women, was going up. Teenagers were teenagers, he supposed.

“It was their idea… he was um… he was 20.” 

The realization dawned on him. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

You give a little shrug and go back to eating. “It was pretty normal in my circles. I didn’t realize how weird it was until I was 18 or 19 or something when the doctors- well, yeah.”

Curiosity crested on the topic of doctors, but Logan knew better than to push too hard. “And what are ‘your circles.’”

A little smile quips up on your lip and Logan notices a seed from the whole grain bread on the bottom lip. He wanted to kiss it off.

“Ever watch 19 kids and counting?”

Logan nearly cocked on a tomato. “What?”

You smirk at his reaction. “Yeah. We were IBLP, fundies I guess people say. I got 11 siblings, wore jean skirts, homeschooled, all that. I even met a Duggar once at a conference. Not the creep one. I don’t think.”

Your blase nature around your strange childhood was a defense. Every day you learned new things that you grew up in that weren’t normal, Remy and you spending hours walking the grounds, just talking. He is shocked you never watched spongebob, you are shocked he was allowed outside after dark. Both of you had a bond over failed arranged marriages and childhood abuse, but he was further along in the deconstruction path.

Nodding along, Logan tries not to freak out. Part of him wants to run away from this conversation. He doesn’t want you to open up, he doesn't want to feel pity or sympathy or learn anything that might endear you to him even more. Part of him wanted to rip out your family and your husbands throats.

“I assume that means you didn’t graduate?”

“Not even close. Homeschool was a loose term, honestly. My parents believed women didn’t need math or science, not that they believed in science, but they encouraged my read thank goodness. I spent a lot of time reading and writing, studying that stuff since we didn’t have a TV. When I say Mr. Xavier took in a stray, I meant it. I’d have absolutely no options, no social security card, no birth certificate, even. Not even McDonalds would have taken me.”

Logan frowned at that, popping the last bite into him mouth. “Why not?”

Despite it all, you laugh still. “I didn’t know that was a thing until I wondered into a Walmart asking for a job and they laughed in my face. Mr. Xavier explained all that. Listen…” You shift in your seat. “I taught all 11 of my siblings English, literature, poetry, reading, writing… I promise you, I might not have gone to college… but I know what I’m doing here.”

He shot you an assuring smile. “I didn’t doubt you for a second, Dolly.”

Logan spent the rest of your lunch break helping you cut out book themed decorations for your classroom. There was so much he wanted to learn, like why you can’t drive, how you left your husband, how you possibly gained the courage to do it knowing nothing of the world and what had happened to you to make you run like that? How brave you must be, for such a small, vulnerable thing, to do that. Logan found he greatly admired you. He had his healing powers, his strenth, speed, his claws to protect him. But you? Just out on your own.

He wouldn’t fuck you. He wouldn’t fall in love. He would do as he promised Charles, he swore it to himself…

But from now on, you didn’t need to be afraid of anything.

Logan would be your claws.

After

You banged on Logan’s door, not caring who heard.

“LOGAN!!!” You shout, continuing to bang even after he opened the door. You didn’t care. Fists pounding on the door turned into fists slamming on his chest. Logan didn’t seem phased, its not like you were strong. Instead, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room before closing the door. You knew you should fear he’d rape you again after what he did but you couldn’t care anymore. 

“Dolly-”

You throw the pregnancy test in his face, dried piss and all. “I hate you! I hate you!” You continue to scream at him and smack at his chest but he lets you. You scream, and scream and his and scream until there is nothing left in you and you fall to your knees crying.

Logan catches you, kneeling down and taking you into his arms and you just let him because fuck, you are so starved for affection, so desperate for touch it doesn’t matter that it came from him. You fit neatly in his lap, his chest warm against your head as he holds you to him.

He smells like oak.

When you calm down, you shove at him again and fall off. 

When he reaches for you, his worry stricken face trying to convince you he was the Logan you knew before, you shout, “No!” Pointing directly at him.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dolly. I am.”

“No, you’re not.” A sniffle alerts you of your runny nose, and you wipe it with your sleeve. “You knew what you were doing! You can’t- you apoligized while raping me, Logan!”

He winces. “Don’t say that…”

“What, rape?” 

That cringe again. “Don’t- don’t call it that!”

You scoff, a sardonic smile playing at your lips. “Oh, I’m sorry, that's upsetting to you? I can’t imagine how that feels, Logan.”

A moment of silence. Then he huffs a small laugh. You hated him, you hated how easy to was to fall back with him, to feel comfortable with him when he did something so horrible to you… and yet when you look at him now, sitting on the floor with the big eyes and little kitty ear hair as you called him, you didn’t see the man that raped you. You just saw Logan.

“I’ll get an abortion.” You say without much conviction.

“No, you won’t” He sounds more convinced than you were. Logan’s eyes were soft, patient, like a parent waiting for his childs fit to end.

You sit back against the wall, exhausted. “Yes, I will!”

He smirks. Is he making fun of you? “No, you will not”

“Or what, you’ll hurt me? You’ll follow me around everywhere?”

Logan chuckles at that. “No. I don’t need to do that. I’m not entirely convinced you would have taken that plan B, honestly.”

“Wha-” 

“How would you get there in the first place? You gonna ask fucking Remy to drive you to the abortion clinic?” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. You and him both know what it is. Leaning in, Logan rests his elbows on his crossed legs, tight tank top straining against his pecs. “I know you, sweet baby doll. Better than Remy, better than anyone ever could. You may have left that world you lived in, may have left those beliefs and your parents and your husband and your pastor, but it hasn’t even been a year. Some stuff comes easier to digest, like realizing your husband doesn’t have the right to beat you with a switch. Some stuff, like what's going on in your womb… that gets a lot harder to sort through. I know you, and you just don’t have the guts to get an abortion”

You hated him. You hated him because he was right,

“That’s why you chose me, isn’t it.” The tears dripped down again, but softer this time. “Because you knew I wouldn’t.”

“No.” He sounded certain, final, almost deviated like it was important for him to know you understood what he was saying. “Dolly…” Logan leans over getting on his hands and knees. Slowly, he crawls across the floor to you, a cat hunting his prey, shoulder blades moving in time and jutting out of his shirt. His eyes were trained on you.

“I didn’t choose you, baby doll. None of this was my choice. The moment I saw you, every single choice was taken away from me.” He stalks closer, and you press your head against the door as your heart rate picks up again. “You were mine, I was yours, and everything that’s happened since has been fate pulling us together.”

Your lower lip quivers, making you whimper. “I didn’t want…” You almost say you, but can’t bring yourself to it. It wouldn’t be true. “I didn’t want that.”

His face is right up against you now, soft little breaths fanning your cheek and his eyes lidded with lust. “I didn’t want it to happen like that either, dolly.” His lips brush yours. “But I can’t deny fate any more than you can deny me.”

Logan might be a little ooc in this ill be real but shhhhhhhh

Also this is not hidden pro life agenda. I am pro choice.

I was raised Catholic and I remember even though a few years into deconstruction I couldn’t let go on the idea abortion was murder. I was assaulted and thought I was pregnant from it and spent hours sobbing in church because I wasn’t know what to do. Luckily it’s a choice I didn’t have to make in the end but please know whatever choice you made for your body was correct.

Want more yandere delulu logan?

Fan of this and also love joel?

Want soft logan, no dark?

If anyone else writes dark logan and wants to be fwends hmu <3 gotta be lgbt inclusive and general leftist stuff. I'll reblog your stuff!!!!!

Consider donating to doctors without borders to support gaza

If anyone knows more good dark logan writers hmu bc i just dont know anyone else!!!!

I appriciate you all supporting my logan work! keep on send them asks! I hav sunday off so i ll ge more then !

if you dont normally read my stuff, sometimes i do polls at the end of my fics. usually its about the story but i gotta do this for like....... well

I wrote the worng way and spent most of it regretting the name bc i just went with the first thing. Same here. this was initially a one shot! nut i fel the title is too simplistic

love yuh!!!

[solxamber]

Crisis Averted - Cater Diamond x reader

After a royal screw up, Cater is left scrambling trying to fix his mistake before you find out. Best part? You've known what he did from the start and you think it's hilarious.

It started out as a normal day. Sun shining, birds chirping, and Cater Diamond doing what Cater Diamond does best—being charming, taking selfies, and generally vibing. But today? Today was different. Today, something bad had happened. And Cater was in full-on crisis mode trying to fix it.

The problem? He’d accidentally erased an entire folder of your saved photos. Not just any folder, either—the one with all your most treasured memories. Birthday celebrations, vacations, goofy selfies of the two of you, everything. Gone. Deleted. Kaput.

Now, to most people, that might not seem like a big deal. But Cater knew better. Those pictures? They were important to you. You loved looking through them on rough days, getting lost in nostalgia, and reliving all those sweet moments. And now? Now they were digital dust, and he was freaking out.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…” Cater muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth in his room. He tugged at his hair, his phone in one hand as he furiously scrolled through every possible "how to recover deleted photos" forum. “I am so dead…”

What Cater didn’t realize, however, was that you already knew. In fact, you’d known from the start. He wasn’t exactly subtle, and after the fifth time he started texting you, only to delete the message before you could read it, you had a pretty good idea that something was up. Honestly? It was kind of… cute. Watching him scramble to fix things like that, his usual cool and carefree attitude unraveling right before your eyes.

You decided to sit back and let the chaos unfold.

Meanwhile, Cater was in full-blown panic mode. He had no idea how you hadn’t noticed yet. He'd been avoiding you all day, coming up with the most ridiculous excuses for why he couldn’t meet up. His messages were starting to get weirder, too.

Cater: Heyyyyy, babe! Can we talk? Wait, no. Scratch that. Uhm, are you free? Like, soon?

Cater: Actually, no. Never mind. I’m busy. Super busy. The busiest. TTYL!

You stared at your phone, a smirk playing on your lips. He was so bad at this. Deciding to mess with him a little, you shot him a casual reply.

You: Sure, I’m free! Wanna hang out?

There was a solid three minutes of radio silence before Cater’s reply came in.

Cater: Haha, maybe later? I’ve got, uh… stuff. Very important unbirthday stuff.

You could practically feel the anxiety radiating through the text. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Back in his room, Cater was biting his nails, sweat beading on his forehead. “Okay, okay, okay. Gotta fix this, gotta fix this now,” he whispered to himself, pacing like a madman. He quickly uses split card, and suddenly, there were three Cater Diamonds standing in front of him, all looking equally panicked.

“Alright, team,” the original Cater said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve got a mission. We need to recover those photos before they notice anything.”

One of the clones raised an eyebrow. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know!” Cater wailed. “That’s why we’re brainstorming!”

The clones exchanged a look before launching into a ridiculous plan. Clone One suggested hacking into your cloud account, while Clone Two thought maybe bribing one of your friends for a copy of the pictures might work. Neither idea was particularly realistic, but desperation was a powerful motivator.

“Alright, alright, calm down, me,” Cater said, rubbing his temples. “Let’s start with trying to recover the deleted files. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll… we’ll figure something out.”

The next few hours were a blur of Cater running around, trying every possible recovery trick in the book. He even roped his clones into checking your laptop, your external hard drives, and even the trash bin on your phone, all while sending you increasingly bizarre texts to keep you from getting suspicious.

Cater: Sooooo, what are you up to today? Got any fun plans? Not that I’m prying! Just curious!

You: Just chilling. You?

Cater: Oh, you know, vibing. Totally normal day here. Nothing weird happening.

You: Uh-huh. Sure.

By this point, you were just waiting for him to crack. And when he started sending his clones to “casually” check in on you—one pretending to drop by for a “totally innocent, nothing-to-see-here” visit—you had to bite back laughter.

The first clone showed up at your door, grinning nervously. “Hey! Just thought I’d swing by and say hi. You’re not, like, working on anything super important, are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not really. Why?”

The clone scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting around. “No reason! Just checking! Everything’s fine! Great! Haha, okay, bye!”

And he was gone just as quickly as he’d appeared.

You leaned back in your chair, shaking your head. Poor Cater was really losing it. And you… well, you were having the time of your life watching him squirm.

Finally, after what must’ve been hours of frantic searching, Cater hit his breaking point. All of his clones were gone, exhausted from their efforts, and he was alone in his room, slumped over his desk, completely defeated.

“I’m doomed,” he muttered to himself, face in his hands. “They’re going to hate me. I’ve ruined everything…”

That was your cue. You figured you’d let him off the hook before he spiraled into a full-on meltdown. Casually, you made your way over to his room and knocked on the door.

“Cater? You in there?”

There was a long pause, and then the door slowly creaked open. Cater peeked out, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Oh, hey…” His voice was weak, his usual enthusiasm completely drained.

You smiled softly, stepping inside. “You okay?”

He let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Actually, no, I’m really not okay. I screwed up, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and now you’re going to be so mad at me, and I just—”

“Cater,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “I already know.”

He froze, eyes wide. “You… what?”

You chuckled. “I knew the second you started acting weird. You accidentally deleted my photos, right?”

Cater stared at you, completely dumbfounded. “You knew?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning. “And honestly? Watching you try to fix it has been hilarious.”

He gaped at you, his face a mix of relief, confusion, and a tiny bit of betrayal. “You… you knew? And you didn’t stop me?!” He whines "You're so, so mean!"

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I thought it was kind of cute. Plus, I backed up the photos ages ago, so it’s not a big deal.”

Cater sagged against you, all the tension draining from his body. “Oh my Seven… I thought I was going to die from stress.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not off the hook, though. You still owe me for all the chaos you put me through today.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “Fair. Totally fair. But… thanks. For not being mad.”

“Who could be mad at you?” you teased. “You were way too entertaining.”

Cater finally pulled back, his usual grin returning, though there was still a hint of sheepishness in his eyes. “Well, I guess if you enjoyed the show, then it wasn’t a total disaster.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Diamond.”

He flashed you a wink, back to his old self again. “Oh, I know I am.”

And just like that, the crisis was averted.

Masterlist

[akookminsupporter]

Hey! A couple of questions for you 😊

AYS, to me, was never going to “confirm” jikook. It was just unrealistic considering society and that they’re serving now. That being said, did AYS reaffirm for you jikook might be real? And do you think if it was your first bts content would you also think that there might be going something on (ie watching with no bias). For me, it showed how incredibly close they are and several moments of intimacy that goes beyond most friendships.

The second one is now 6 weeks out from the car convo, has your opinion on it or its relation to jikook changed? For me still, that car convo didn’t show they broke up or disprove that they may be dating.

One of my pet theories, even before Face and long before knowing buddy existed, was wondering if they took a step back in prep for military service - a let’s focus on solo careers and work on not being as tied together cause we have service a head of us. A practice run if you will. Not breaking up, more let’s try long distance.

More so now, and what I haven’t seen people talk about, is I was thinking about how for the other guys and jikooks prior relationships, they would know how hard dating as an idol would be. I’m sure Tae and Jennie had a lot to contend w being so busy as idols and on differing schedules. Same thing for dating a non famous, dealing w the insane hours and workload, rarely being in Seoul. And that was never a reality jikook faced - for a period they would’ve both lived and worked together. They were in the same schedule, the same places. And that would’ve been for a majority of their relationship. So no wonder post October 2022 was an adjustment, when they truly did not have any schedules as bts. And they’re both human, and Jimin has said both he and jk get lost in their work (from that colouring live). Sometimes we aren’t the best and prioritizing work and relationships, especially when it gets busy. You hear stories about loving couples going thru phases where they’re just roommates before making the effort to not just be living together. It seems like Jimin got incredibly busy and focused with Face and Muse. And jk is allowed to have feelings about that. Doesn’t mean them not being able to see each other to hang out is any deeper than that. Doesn’t show that they broke up or couldn’t be dating. I also wonder, since we may never get the background on it, if that period of time solidified the decision to enlist together. Where before it was a ok well enlist it will suck, became after that period of time nah we’re not doing 18+ months apart.

Ahhhh sorry for the long post, a couple questions and a couple thoughts for you haha

Hey anon, sorry for taking a bit to post your ASK.

“Did AYS reaffirm for you that jikook might be real?”

Yeah, definitely.

“Do you think if it was your first BTS content, would you also think that there might be something going on (i.e. watching with no bias)?”

Oh, absolutely. I think if I'd seen AYS without much context, I’d be sure they’re a couple, no doubt about it.

“The second one is now six weeks out from the car convo; has your opinion on it or its relation to jikook changed?”

Are you talking about Jungkook complaining that Jimin never reached out? Honestly, no, I still hold the same opinion I had initially.

I think one of the reasons why that time they talked is confusing for us is that we don’t have the context for a lot of things. For example, when did they decide to enlist together? I think that decision shaped many of their choices, like focusing on their work and perhaps on other friendships, because their relationship wouldn’t just pause dramatically come December 2023.

Honestly, I think that period in their relationship solidified whatever they have and made them want to be together, which is why they ended up enlisting together through a system that guaranteed they'd be together. Even if Jimin and Jungkook took a break—assuming they really have a romantic relationship—the fact that they decided to film a show together and enlist together in the army shows they’ve overcome whatever was separating them or that they’ve just realised they want to be together.

So, I think it’s a bit tiring and unnecessary to speculate about what might have happened during that time in their relationship because, first of all, we have no context, and second, they’re still together. The fact that they enlisted together through the buddy system is the biggest “proof” they can give that their relationship is solid, whatever that may be.

[thedevillionaire]

Above and Beyond

A “day in the life of” sort of thing - with a few complications, of course. Always and all ways, thank you SO much for reading. 💝

---

And it’s raining.

Again. 

Or, perhaps more accurately, still, Cerberus thinks bitterly, wiping his nose with a tissue barely up to the task. First the Ice chambers and now this absolute nonsense. He hasn’t visited the mortal plane for some time, too long ago to recall precisely when, but he does remember one thing clearly – it was raining then too. Heavier, not this…endlessly drizzling drip-torture affair, but raining.

Again. Still. 

“This damnable weather,” he mutters, more to himself than either of the two awestruck, hapless Demon novices looking up at him. And he can’t for the life of him work out what led to this situation in the first place. Sheer incompetence, apparently. How is it even possible for a basic possession to go so far awry? Just vacate the damn vessel, it’s not complicated, it’s a mortal. Honestly. Ridiculous pastime, possession, anyway. He’s never understood the appeal.

It's all frankly well beneath his station, and ludicrous that he’s here. Why the hell did he agree to this? He's not been thinking clearly all day. And it’s freezing. He’s freezing. The biting windchill whips through the steady, relentless damp, embellishing it, driving it bone-deep. Of all times for both Therion and Suspiria to be away. Who schedules these things? Nobody checks anything properly, he doesn’t…even… Damn it, he is not going to sneeze again. He presses the back of his hand against his nose with significant force in an attempt to quash the rising urge. And…who the hell is this now? He sniffles.

The unexpected and unrecognised arrival doesn’t waste time introducing himself as he starts to deliver his message. “Lord DeVille. I apologise for the intrusion, but if you cou…” 

A swiftly raised index finger halts his sentence.

“Ah-HEHTSHhuu!”

“Gesundheit, my lord.”

Upon receiving an irritated, perfunctory thank you, excuse me and an impatient signal to continue, the emissary nods once in acknowledgement, and does so.

“If you could attend the Healing wards as soon as practicable. I’m afraid there’s been an incident involving Kia.”

A moment of stunned silence as the world and everything in it falls away, irrelevant, meaningless, replaced by a purity of focus vehement and singular. Cerberus, eyes newly incandescent with every bit of that infamous green fire, flicks some stray damp hair back from his face, and wastes no further time.

“Anyone attempting to contact me will burn,” he says, and in a flash of flame is gone. 

---

His arrival at Healing is of course expected, and Riviera's well prepared for it. Less prepared, perhaps, for the usually imposingly stylish Demon king looking…well, more than a little sodden, really. Verging on bedraggled, she thinks, though she’d never say it. But with the look in his eyes as fiercely intent as she's ever seen, that is clearly of no priority right now, and she needs to hurry up and get down to business.

"Okay, well, the first thing you should know is that nobody hurt her, she did this to herself," she begins, adding a hasty, "Not on purpose!" at the expression that received. "No, she attempted a Media skill but unfortunately she was a bit out of her depth, and..."

Cerberus partially hears Riviera's words, taking them in as a wash of information—

...sort of like a concussion, shaken up, disoriented...

partially loses himself to trying to make sense of how things could have come to this—

Kia’s independence, her always pushing through her fears, her trust in herself, and more than that, her trust in him, he's never doubted her but she's...it's gone wrong and gods it stings that she didn’t come to him for help but he knows of course she wants to prove herself, prove she can do this on her own, that any successes would be truly hers and not due to the privilege of his assistance, but...but...

—and partially tries to resist any further surrender to...this damn...

hh-HH...

He recognises when the cause is lost quickly enough, though, turning away to cover an unstoppable, urgent couplet of sneezes in tightly crooked elbow, desperate need recurring.

“Hh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHHhuu!"

"..thought she'd be able to manage," continues Riviera. "So we're just keeping her overnight for..."

"Huh-AHSSCHuu! *SNF!*"

"..observation," she concludes, offering him a casual blessing as he curses sotto voce, excuses himself and gathers several tissues from the box on the countertop. “You sound worse than she does, you know. Need anything for the cold?”

"I am cold, I don’t have one," Cerberus says, exasperation bringing a touch of sharpness to his tone even as encroaching congestion rips away the clarity of his consonants. It's beside the point, anyway. He blows his nose and incinerates the tissues. "Pardon me." A quick, soft sniffle. "I'm fine."

He still, for the most part, believes it. Though it would certainly be nice to be less...damp.

"So, no?" Riviera shrugs amicably. "Hm, okay." She’s not about to press him on the matter, despite the ambient temperature in Healing being notably and comfortably warm. “Anyway, um, Kia’s in – just a moment, let me check – yeah, chamber 3," she confirms, pointing down the relevant corridor. “She’s on some meds, so she might be a bit loopy, if she’s even awake.”

Cerberus acknowledges this, sniffling again, and takes another tissue from the countertop box to once more wipe his recalcitrant nose.

“You know, you’re in the right place if you change your mind about…” Riviera gives a little nod towards the tissue box. "Just saying."

“As I said, I'm fine. Thank you.”

He claims a couple more tissues as he leaves, all the same.

---

His beautiful bonded looks disconcertingly fragile, impossibly delicate, in these clinical surrounds - like she's some sort of precisely crafted porcelain imitation of herself, her mass of rich chestnut waves arrayed over the pillow, framing her in a dark halo stark against the too-bright white bedlinens. She's an illusion, a transience.

She doesn't belong here. She's far too vibrant, too irrepressible for this.

Or just irrepressible enough.

Cerberus sighs and ignores the chair provided, sitting instead beside Kia on the bed, and softly caresses her face.

“I understand why you’d have wanted to try this without me, but…” His voice tender, heartfelt. Confident that whatever the problem had been, he’d have been able to fix it. “Oh, love. I wish you hadn’t.”

Kia stirs, slightly waking to his touch, or sensing his presence on some deeper than conscious level, perhaps, and with a small mm of hazy recognition, reaches out to take his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers as she does so.

He rubs his nose and sniffles again, as quietly as he’s able, and frowns slightly at the very unwelcome thought that maybe he is coming down with something after all. Can't be. It’s just too much time spent being practically refrigerated, and for no good reason. Nevertheless, surely this...overreactive ridiculousness should have settled down by now, despite everything. Does his throat hurt? He's not sure. Possibly.

His breath catches softsharply, urgently – once, twice and twice again – and with no time to extricate his hand from Kia’s, he turns as best he can to smother a rapid, desperate triplicate of sneezes, each more insistent than the last, against his shoulder. “HUHschuu! Hhh-TSSCH-uu! Hhh...hh-HH… hhAHTSSCHUU!”

Kia fully awakens to that.

“Bless you,” she purrdrawls, her voice still thick with sleep and the Healing concoctions she’d taken earlier. She gazes up at him through a mix of delight, relief, devotion, gratitude, and desire, her lucidity mutable, unpredictably shifting.

“Gods, sorry, love. Excuse me,” Cerberus says from behind the tissues he’d grabbed earlier. “Not quite the greeting I’d intended.” He sniffles, and pushes some still-damp, disarrayed hair from his eyes. “Spent almost an entire day in the Ice chambers and then an utterly senseless trip to the mortal plane in all its – *snf!* – frigid delights, and now I… *SNFF!* Well, this. If you’ll – *snf!* – pardon me a moment…” He turns aside to blow his nose.

Kia props herself up against the bedhead a little. "Not a great day for the DeVilles, huh," she says with a gently wry smile, one which Cerberus mirrors, adding a hm of accordance as he immolates the spent tissues.

"Soooo, um...you know what happened here, right?" she checks.

He confirms it with a brief nod.

"You probably think I’m crazy."

"I think you’re wonderful." The sincerity in his voice is absolute, souldeep.  “You’re so brave, darkling.”

Kia smirks. “Incredibly brave,” she quips with a flourish, recalling a very earliest time between them, and a question he’d posed that they playfully revisit every now and then.

The two complete the quote together: “Or incredibly foolish.” They both laugh about it, as they’ve done many times before.

“Yeah.” With a smile verging on wistful, Kia gently strokes Cerberus along his forearm, her expression becoming more serious. “Babe, I know you’ll always go above and beyond for me, but sometimes it’s… It’s just… I mean… You can’t always help me. You can’t just give me everything.”

“I want to.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I know.” Kia presses a loving kiss to the back of her bonded’s hand. “And I’m sorry I scared you. But I’m okay, really, I…I very am, really very really, and I’ve had lots of…” She waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the treatments on the bedside table. “..the things, and I’m not in any pain or anything so you don’t need to be here and I…I guess you should probably go home.”

A wickedsoft chuckle of refutation. “No, I’m afraid I’m going to make rather a nuisance of myself, darkling.”

Kia laughs. "Good." She grins, a little woozily. "I didn't mean it, anyway. Hmm…" She takes a section of his shirt sleeve between her fingers, briefly rubbing. "You're more wet than usual," she asserts, peering at him as if she's cracked some secret code. “Wait, did we talk about this alrea…”

She breaks off as her beloved's breath sharpcatches staccato anew; without intent she inhales deeply alongside him, her fascinated focus almost as captive as his.

“HXXTchu! Ugh…” He groans, lightly coughing convulsively from the effort of stifling. And it was doomed to fail – he knows it, and he inhales again, deep and immediate, and doesn’t bother trying it a second time. “Huh-TSSCHH-uu!” Or…or apparently a third, and after a knife-edge pause and an escalated hitching of breath, he surrenders entirely and sneezes again – powerful, ferocious. “Hhh… hh-TSSCHH-uu!” With a fierce sniffle, he presses the back of his hand against his nose with a determination verging on brutal, but the insistent itch still unsated has his breath catching again. Brow creased, he gives over, capitulating altogether to the demanding need. “AAHHTSSCHHUU! Gods, fuck.”  

Kia loses herself to assorted altered states for a moment. "Bless you, you’re so gorgeous, oh my god,” she effuses, rush-of-energy lustlaced, and sends Cerberus a Mindsent doubled-up :Bless you bless you I love you: as he excuses himself, apologises and takes a very necessary moment of recovery.

A realisation occurs to Kia, watching him now, and she voices it: a soft but matter-of-fact you’re getting a cold.

Cerberus almost manages to begin some sort of unconvincing rebuttal, but Kia holds up her hand in a gentle interruption. “It's alright, you're very sexy so you’re allowed to be a bit dumb about some stuff," she says.

She gives a light giggle at his raised eyebrow and wry shake of his head, smiling, in response. Gazing at him both sweetly and covetously for just a little longer, the spike of energy rapidly fading, the state she’s in, she mumbles you work too hard, you know as she passes him the bedside tissue box with a kiss, before closing her eyes and curling up against his chest with a soft sound of contentment.

Cerberus strokes her hair, kisses the top of her head as he embraces her.  “When you’re well, we can go through the Media process of your choosing together, if you’d like,” he murmurs.

“Nuh-uh.” She taps his arm twice in drowsy correction. “When you’re well, we can.”

A knowing, indulgent smile curves her lips, and she curls up closer still.

---

[amateur-scribbler]

My best friend who has known me the longest, recently told me with only love in her heart, the man I am searching for may not be found on my current path.

Because I’ve made an art out of stumbling into men’s arms. One of these days my ankles may break as I search for wanting eyes that find mine in crowded bars.

I’ve gotten rather good at slipping from bed to bed finding warmth in sheets that aren’t my own. But, no matter how close I get there’s a coldness in those beds that whispers, “you’re still so very much alone”.

And, the moments of stolen laughs and kisses in the dark can nearly fool me into thinking that he is imagining a life we’re we would never be apart.

But, she’s right, like she so often is; I won’t find love by lying to myself that these fleeting flings mean anything more than what they truly are.

They are my fantastical way of being able to say I’m trying to find love when honestly they’re the perfect way to keep a brick wall around my heart.

I know why I do it, even if admitting it makes my skin crawl; I want to be wanted and I know my body has always been the easiest way to find that feeling even for just a night or however much time I can steal.

It’s comfortable, and the human mind loves to sit in that space. I’m picky, and selfish, and scared, and insecure, and headstrong, and entirely human in all those ways; but, I also won’t settle for less or hate myself for all the rather questionable choices I have made.

This is another thing my best friend held strongly in her mind; that no matter the path I have tread, there’s a perfection in my imperfection that guides me on the right path ahead.

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter six: "You killed my father, prepare to die."

Summary: It's a sad moment for the Reids: Gideon has been murdered. This is one of Spencer's darkest moments, but this time, he doesn't have to deal with it alone.  Warnings: Cursing, Criminal Minds spoilers of season 10 Ep 13 "Nelson Sparrow." It's just sad, everything is sad.  Word count: 8.405 words A/N: Hello!! So, who do you think Spencer felt about missing his daughter's first Halloween? I'm sure it was a low blow. What do you think their family disguise was about? I'm thinking Doctor Who, with Raven as a tiny Tardis. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

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Spencer’s point of view

For a few months, things were normal for all of us. Well, as normal as they can be considering we worked at the BAU hunting serial killers week after week. (Y/N) and Kate got along incredibly well, and I could see how much she enjoyed spending time with her. She still missed Prentiss, but knowing she was just a phone call away made things easier this time.

Leaving our baby back home every time we had to go out of town for a case was still incredibly painful. Still, Sofia, Lu, Mikey, and Frank were always there with Raven, which helped us stay focused on work. Honestly, we wouldn’t be able to do it without them.

One thing made us incredibly miserable back then: We missed Raven’s first Halloween because we had to solve a case in San Diego. An unsub was kidnapping kids on October 31st, and though I knew our baby couldn’t go out trick and treating yet, it was heart-wrenching knowing we had missed her first Halloween. We had a family custom planned, and though we wore it the entire 1st of November as we stayed at home, carving pumpkins and watching the "Charlie Brown Halloween special" with her, it just wasn’t the same.

- “I wish we could promise her this is the only celebration we'll miss because of work.”- (Y/N) whispered as we cuddled in bed that night. - “But we both know that’d be a lie.”

- “I just hope next year things will be different.”- I whispered and kissed (Y/N)’s forehead as she snuggled closer.

- “I hope we don’t miss Christmas.”

We had some weird cases during that year. We even had a female unsub who ruined every fairy tale I read to my daughter. She was sure she was Cinderella and kept looking for her prince charming, killing every man who didn’t live up to her fantasy in the way. To catch her, I had to pretend to be a prince, carry one of her shoes like a crystal slipper, and nearly propose. That ended up being the only way she could go with us willingly.

I will never forget (Y/N)’s face as I approached the unsub in a cemetery, without any vest or gun. The whole idea was Hotch’s and I didn’t think it could work, but it turned out that that poor girl was so out of reality that she indeed thought I was her prince charming.

- “Not fair!”- my wife argued as we drove to the cemetery, where Garcia had located her and her newest victim.- “You are supposed to be my prince charming, no one else’s. And why did you take off your wedding right?”- and she pouted and whined, making me chuckle.

- “Come on, chipmunk! You know I am your and only yours. I’m just trying to get this unsub with the least use of force possible. And if she sees the ring she’ll know I’m lying.”

- “One weird movement and I’m gonna take her down.”- (Y/N) replied and I smiled, somehow proud of how jealous she was under the circumstances.

- “Do me a favor kids and stop being so freaking sweet when all of us can hear you.”- Rossi argued in my ear from the SUV right behind ours.

- “Never.”- my wife quickly replied from the back seat and I suppressed a chuckle.

- “Should I remind them I’m in the same car with them?”- JJ joked and (Y/N) smiled right away. It took some of the tension off, considering I knew my wife was upset I wasn’t wearing a vest to face the unsub. But I knew I didn’t need one, she had my back.

When we walked to the unsub, she had a pair of gardening scissors against her poor victim’s neck, and she was about to kill him, so I hurried and grabbed one of the evidence shoes we had from a bad and tried to get her attention, as (Y/N) hid behind a bush, pointing the unsub with a gun, and JJ did the same from behind a tree.

- “Excuse me. May I approach?”- I said, exactly as the Prince Charming did in the bedtime story I had read to Raven before we took off for that case.

- “Who are you? Go away!”- the unsub yelled back at me, and I walked slower, raising my hands, showing her I was not a threat.

- “Please, just give me the chance to speak. I've looked for so long.”

- “What? What are you talking about?”

- “I've searched this entire city trying to find the right person. Are you the right person?”- I made a short pause as I watched the guy she was about to kill move from her side. Her eyes were focused on me, so I continued speaking. -“The dance, the other evening. Do you remember?”

- “The dance?”- she stood up, dropped the weapon, and walked to me. She was indeed defenseless. Poor girl, she was actually sure she was Cinderella, and after knowing her background story, I could only hope she’d find help.

- “I met the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. We danced the whole night, and then… She was gone. But she left this behind.”- I showed her the shoe and walked a few steps closer to her- “May I?”

And so, I kneeled before her and put on her shoe. She gasped and tears filled her eyes as she stared at me with a big smile and I kissed her hand, like Prince Charming usually does in books, to seal the deal.

- “I brought the carriage.”- it was the only way I could get her into the SUV and into custody.

- “You did?

- “It's waiting for us.”

She seemed so surprised and excited, I didn’t even have to push her, she held my arm as we started walking. I looked at my wife for a second, still hiding behind that bush, still pointing her gun at the unsub, and cut her a short smile, trying to help her relax, until she finally lowered the pistol and smiled back at me.

We had a bunch of crazy cases that year, but nothing, not even the hardest mysteries we’d had to crack, could have ever prepared me for that phone call and the drive in the middle of the night to Gideon’s cabin.

He was dead. Murdered. And it felt like a part of my chest was empty. He was the closest thing I've ever had to a father, and though we hadn’t talked in years after his departure from the FBI, I knew he was out there, being happy, living his life away from the murderers and cases.

But now he was gone, and we had to finish whoever had done that to him and make him pay.

(Y/N) held my hand the entire drive to his cabin, after dropping Raven with her mother. I didn’t speak much, and she didn’t push me either. I just let the tears fall from my eyes. When we got to the cabin, JJ, Hotch, Kate, and Rossi were already there. I couldn’t say a word as Gideon’s body lay on the ground, covered with a white sheet, like any other corpse we had seen at a crime scene before. Only this time, it was personal.

I tried not to cry, but my chin quivered and (Y/N) quickly held my hand tight. JJ looked at me with a sorry glance and I locked my eyes on the sheet on the floor, still trying to process the fact that it was Gideon’s corpse.

No one said a word for a few minutes. They were all broken hearted, just like me. The record player kept spinning, after playing the last song he ever heard. The chess board was untouched, waiting for him to come back and play. Garcia and Morgan walked in after a few minutes and stood next to us, also shocked and deeply affected.

- “Are you sure?”- Penelope asked Hotch, still not believing it was actually Gideon lying dead in front of us. Hotch nodded and kept his eyes on Garcia as he replied.

- “It’s Gideon.”

That was enough for me. I had to step out of that cabin. I couldn’t deal with that kind of grief. My wife walked behind me and hugged me as I finally broke in tears, and sobbed against her neck as he held me close to her.

- “It’s ok honey, let it all out.”- she whispered and caressed my hair as I cried my heart out. I couldn’t stop. I felt a hole had been dug in the middle of my chest. How could Gideon be dead? How? Who killed him? I needed to find that asshole and make him pay. I knew I was sad and emotional, but the need for revenge was growing fast inside me.

- “How could… who would…”

I couldn’t finish sentences as I cried and held (Y/N) closer to me. Closer as possible. You don’t expect your family to be murdered. And Gideon was like family to me. We hadn’t talked in over eight years, but he was still one of the most important people in my life. He helped me grow, and he taught me so much when I first joined the FBI. He trusted my intelligence, he got everybody to call me a doctor.

How does a guy so smart, so bright, get murdered? What happened? What went wrong? How couldn’t he notice something was going on? Gideon was a legend in the FBI, and to me, he was one of the smartest guys I had ever met. How could that have happened to him?

- “We are gonna solve this.”- my wife whispered and kept caressing my hair. - “We are gonna find out what happened and we are gonna catch whoever killed him.”

I couldn’t answer, all I managed to do was nod as a reply and felt (Y/N) holding me, trying to keep the pieces of my heart together.

JJ walked out of the cabin a few minutes later. She stared at me as I did my best to stop sobbing. I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of my friends and family- and that’s what the team had always been to me- but I knew I had to put my grief aside and start working as a profiler, ‘cos we needed to solve that case.

- “I am so sorry, Spence.”- JJ whispered and walked to me. (Y/N) unwrapped her arms from my body, making me shiver, missing her warmth immediately. JJ hugged me for a moment, but it wasn’t as comforting as (Y/N)’s arms. Not mean to compare, but it just didn’t do much for me. However, I hugged my friend tight and sighed, thinking it had to be hard for her as well. Gideon wasn’t just my team partner. It was everybody’s, and we were all grieving in the same way. I couldn’t be selfish, that wasn’t about me.

- “Do we know anything?”- (Y/N) whispered and JJ shook her head. She moved and hugged my wife for a moment and I cleared my throat, trying to compose myself.

- “Forensic are on their way to remove the body. Hotch is calling the family.”

And somehow that sentence hit me. It was hard for us to know Gideon had been murdered, but I couldn't even begin to imagine how his family was going to feel. He had a son named Stephen. They weren’t close, that I knew, but that doesn’t mean they hated each other. It’s hard having a family with the job we had. (Y/N) and I knew that very well now. It was double work being present at home and keeping what we saw at work out of the house. But giving our daughter the best we had was our priority. I never wanted her to feel she wasn’t as important as what we did for a living, because she is the world to us.

Morning came sooner than I expected. Somehow it felt like only minutes had passed since we arrived at that cabin. I had only been there once before, the day Gideon left the team and I found his letter for me, saying goodbye. The only memory I had of that place wasn’t better than that moment I was living.

(Y/N) talked with the team as she held my hand. She was the functional one in our relationship at that minute. She knew I needed time to process it all, and she let me. But never, not even once, did she stop holding my hand.

A team of criminalistic took Gideon’s body from his cabin and I just stood there, staring at the scene, unable to move. I couldn’t even say a word. I just glued my eyes to the ground, reliving all the memories I had with Jason in my mind over and over again. I remembered when I first joined the team and we had our first case. He picked me to be on the team even when I was still very young. I was the younger agent to join the BAU, and he trusted my knowledge and my abilities, even when I didn’t.

Gideon taught me about serial killers and how to catch them. He taught me about chess and life. He even tried to help me get a date with JJ back in the day.

- “Remember how much he hated us hanging out when I joined the team?”- (Y/N) whispered, reading my mind at the moment. It was the first thing she had said to me in at least half an hour and all I managed to do as a reply was to nod.

- “He once called me to his office and told me I was being selfish with the team, ‘cos the way I was influencing you was taking your mind from work, and that you were the smartest of us all.”- my wife confessed after over ten years. I remembered that day exactly, she had walked out of Gideon’s office nearly crying, and I gave her candies to cheer her up.

- “You never let that get in the way of our friendship and I think eventually he realized I was a good influence on you.”- (Y/N) whispered and turned to me. I looked at her puffy eyes and sighed, they were still sparkling, even with all the sadness I could read on them.

- “Though he never got you tickets to go to a concert with me.”- she teased and cut me a warm smile.

- “I love you.”- I replied and wrapped my arms around her. - “Thank you for supporting me.”

- “Always.”- she answered and kissed my lips sweetly. - “Hotch wanted us to go with Morgan and talk with the M.E. but if you don’t want to go…”

- “No, I have to.”- I quickly answered and wiped the few tears that had fallen from my eyes as I spoke.

- “You don’t have to do anything, honey.”

- “I owe it to Gideon. I have to help the team.”

The entire drive to the M.E. we were silent. We took our car and (Y/N) drove us there. Morgan was waiting for us right outside, standing next to his SUV.

- “How are you?”- he asked us and neither of us replied. I looked at him and felt him tapping on my back a few times- “Come on, kids.”- he whispered and walked with us inside. Neither of us wanted to be, that was a fact.

We walked the same halls we had been in a thousand times during the years, and we met with the same team we had worked with a million times. They all knew how hard that was for us, and they were kind enough to try to make it easier.

- “Out of respect, I kept him covered.”- the doctor said as we stood in front of Giden’s dead body.

- “Appreciate that.”- Morgan replied and I felt (Y/N)’s hand squeezing mine.

- “'Cause of death was hypovolemic shock due to ballistic trauma. Three points of entry: left shoulder, right abdominal wall, and right temporal.”- the doctor started and I felt sick immediately.

- “Did he suffer?”- Derek asked the question we were all thinking and I didn’t move my eyes from the sheet. It was slowly covering staining with blood.

- “Not for long, no.”- the forensic quickly responded and as she continued talking, Morgan turned and looked at me, not saying a word. - “His brain stopped working before he was able to process his last breath. After the final shot, he was gone within a fraction of a second.”

- “Would you excuse us, please?”- Morgan’s words sounded like a whisper in that room, and the doctor nodded.

- “Of course.”

- “Thank you.”- as soon as she was out of the room, Derek turned to me and the tears started to fall slowly from my eyes. (Y/N) rubbed my back and kissed my hand as she continued holding it.

- “Did you hear any of that, kid? He didn't suffer.”- I couldn’t even tell him I understood, ‘cos tears filled my eyes and I nearly started sobbing- “Listen to me. Listen to me. I know you are not alone, I know you have your wife to support you, but you two are not going through this on your own. Sometimes you two put up these walls and you block us out, and you can't do that, not right now.”

I know to this day that he was right. Before being in a relationship, me and (Y/N) would do that to the world. We had our own little bubble and we would live there, help each other, and never rely on anyone else. Like we did when she helped me get clean and sober. After we started dating, that bubble became more exclusive. The way we handled Prentiss’ death was just a glimpse of how we worked. We were a team of our own and we would leave everybody out.

- “We need you, kids. Gideon needs you. Both of you.”- Morgan finished his speech and hugged me tight. He looked at (Y/N) and hugged her too, as she tried her best not to cry and remain strong.

- “I'm going to step right out there, and when you two are ready… let's go get this son of a bitch.”

(Y/N)’s point of view

One of the scariest things about Gideon’s death was dealing with the awful truth: we were all potential victims. Yes, it wasn’t the first time we had to face that fact, but you usually forget it. You are under an incredible amount of stress, dealing with serial killers, trips, your daily routine, and taking care of your baby, your house, and your husband. And then this hits you: You can die. All of your team could be in danger. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.

Honestly, it’s nerve-wracking.

I had held Spencer’s hand since the second we got that phone call and I wasn’t planning on letting it go. I knew how hard that situation was for my husband and I was not going to let him go through it alone. Never.

Morgan left us alone with Gideon’s corpse and Spencer cried for a few seconds. I hugged him and let my own tears fall free as we simply stood in front of Gideon’s body. After a silence, filled with our sobs, I let my husband go and turned to the body.

- “So, as you may know, we got married.”- I started talking and felt Spencer’s hand holding mine tighter in a second. - “It’s been three years already, and we have a little girl. Her name is Raven. You would have loved her. She is so smart, like her dad.”

- “Like her mom.”- Spencer corrected me and I brushed the tears that kept falling down my face as I continued speaking.

- “She is going to be one year old in a few weeks, and we are planning a big party. She loves animals and bedtime stories. Spencer reads her for hours before putting her down to bed.”- my chin kept quivering as I spoke, but I continued fighting the tears and made a long pause, trying to recompose myself.

- “We miss you.”- Spencer whispered- “I miss you.”

His voice broke at the end of that last word, but after a few seconds, he continued talking. 

- “I hope you are proud of the man I became, ‘cos you had a lot to do with who I am today. Every time I am scared and feel like quitting, I remember when you told me “We all have bad dreams. Everyone on the plane, who wouldn't? We hunt the worst of humanity, we see the depths of depravity, we dream of monsters.” And yet, you left us. I guess I understand why you did it. However, I don’t understand why you turned your back on us. Why didn’t you call? Why not send a letter after that goodbye? We were a family, or at least that's how I felt about you.”

My husband was opening his heart, and the only thing I could do was to hold his hand and encourage him to let it all out. That was the time to do it. The moment to start healing from any wound that the end of his relationship with Gideon left him.

- “I’m sorry you felt like you needed to leave us behind. There were so many times when I wished I could still talk to you. Ask you things, get your advice. It wasn’t just serial killers. You were my friend. And as you remember, I don’t have many friends. That hasn’t changed much.”

- “And I’m still a very bad influence for him”- I had to add and chuckled- “But I still try to make him eat his greens at every dinner.”

- “You force me.”- Spencer argued immediately and I nodded.

- “That remains the same, as you can notice.”- my words were a soft whisper as I moved closer to the table, Spencer holding still my hand. - “Thank you for everything, Gideon. I’m sorry things ended up like this. I wish you could have come to our wedding. I wish we could have had one last conversation, to know if you were ok. But I give you my word, we are gonna catch whoever did this to you, and we are making them pay.”

Spencer took a deep breath and didn’t say a word for a moment. I looked at him and cut him a short smile, caressing his hand with my thumb as I still held it tight.

- “Thank you, Gideon. I will always remember our conversations, all of them. You changed my life. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you. I owe you so much…”- he sobbed for a moment, letting it all out. It broke my heart to see my husband so affected, but it was a good thing he was being open about his feelings. He wasn’t hiding how he felt, and between us that was a great improvement. He finally understood I didn’t need him to be perfect, I wanted him to be honest. That was it.

- “Goodbye, my friend.”- Spencer whispered, wiped the tears from his face, and sighed, looking at me.- “I’m ready. Let’s catch this guy.”

I cut him a short, warm smile and nodded. I gave him a Kleenex and ran my thumb across his cheek. When we walked out of there, Morgan was waiting for us. He didn’t say a word, he just looked at us and started walking. It was time to go back to the cabin and investigate this case as any other case. We had to be profilers.

Back at the cabin, JJ, Kate, and Penelope were going through some of Jason’s things, tracing his last steps. Spencer and I walked in and overheard the last part of their conversation, as Morgan followed us closely.

- “Ok, Gideon fueled up every 350 miles, he probably stopped at some diners along the way, 'cause, you know, the man could like live off of milkshakes.”- Pen rambled as she kept staring at the screen in front of her. - “Definitely he took his sweet time going down the coast, but booked it back from Jacksonville, and instead of coming here home to his cabin, he stayed one night in Roanoke.”

- “Why? It's only an hour away.”- Kate asked but her words were ignored ‘cause JJ noticed us and looked at my husband with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.

- “Spence?”

- "I just don't understand any of it anymore. I guess I'm just looking for it again, for the belief I had back in college, the belief I had when I first met Sarah and it all seemed so right."- Spencer quoted the letter Gideon had left him as he stared at a book with a picture of Sarah and her date of death.

- “That's beautiful.”- Kate whispered and looked at us, probably not knowing what else to say. - “Who's Sarah?”

- “Gideon's first love.”- I answered and looked around, still feeling wrong for snooping into someone else’s life. Someone who had taken us out of his life.

- “You're remembering the letter Gideon left you.”- JJ kept staring at Spencer and he nodded, avoiding eye contact with anyone in that room. He just stared at the book in his hands and continued talking.

- “I'm thinking maybe he rushed back and stayed in Roanoke because he was finally happy. What if he found someone like Sarah again?”- Spencer sighed and turned around. He wasn’t ready to be at that cabin again, neither of us was, but we had to start working. I started walking behind him, but Rossi stopped me before I walked out of the door.

- “Principessa, wait. Let Spencer deal with his emotions alone for a moment.”- I stood by the door and looked at my husband outside, just walking around, looking at his feet. - “How's the kid?- David asked Morgan, I guess I wasn’t supposed to hear 'cause he was whispering, but I was right there.

- “Not great. But he'll get his head back in the game.”

- “Come here”- Rossi said looking at me and I walked over, still trying to see what Spencer was doing.- “How are you doing?”

- “I’m… shocked, I guess.”- I murmured and felt his arm around me. - “What about you? He was your friend, you were the fathers of the BAU.”

- “We are going to find whoever did this, then and only then I’ll be able to deal with what happened.”

Rossi’s words sounded a lot like any FBI agent would react: logical. Somehow I felt I was never going to be able to react that way if someone I loved was involved in a case.

- “Rossi, this is crazy.”- Morgan started talking, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened- “Gideon and I used to walk around scenes like this all the time. He'd always say to me, "Morgan, I'm the unsub. How did I do it?"”

- “Well, first I shoot my target from a distance, wounding him. Then I move in for the kill.”- Rossi replied, keeping his head cold, and being a profiler on duty.

- “Gideon has the strength to shoot a few rounds into the door. But he misses.”- Derek walked to the door and stared at the scene. - “Because I've weakened his dominant hand. Gideon didn't have the strength to hold his gun steady.”

- “So, I stand over. I get off on this. My face is the last thing he'll see. And then I finish him.”- Rossi adds and stares at the blood stains on the carpet.

- “But wait a second.”- I finally interrupted them and looked at the room around me like a crime scene, and not Gideon’s living room.- “If most of the gun was from here to the door, why did Gideon shoot way over here to this wall? That makes no sense unless he did it on purpose.”

- “You are right, pretty girl. Shot's gotta mean something.”- Derek nodded and the three of us stared at the whole on the wooden wall. Rossi grabbed the painting that had fallen due to the gunshot: it was a creepy sparrow picture.

- “The devil is in the details.”- David said and sighed- “Do you mind if I take Boy Wonder with me for a ride?”

- “Of course”- I answered - “Just let me say goodbye.”

- “It’s just a ride, Bella.”- Rossi cut me a short smile, and I nodded.

- “I know.”

Spencer left with Rossi and I was left with the girls. The first thing Penelope asked was how Spencer was doing, and I simply shrugged and sighed.

- “As well as expected, I guess.”

- “Were he and Gideon close?”- Kate asked and I nodded thinking “close” wasn’t the word I would use to describe that relationship.

- “They had a friendship that was more like a father and son relationship. He took so much care of Spencer when he first joined the BAU, he was actually upset we were friends.”- I explained and both JJ and Penelope smiled, nodding, probably remembering how it used to be when Gideon worked with us.

- “Upset you were friends? Why?”- Callahan demanded to know.

- “Well, I was somehow… a bad influence for Spencer.”- I whispered and sighed.

- “You two once got to work drunk!”- JJ said and chuckled- “I still remember Gideon’s look when you two sat at the table wearing sunglasses.”

- “Drunk?!”- Kate nearly yelled, shocked. Morgan walked over and overheard the conversation, and of course, he had to add his 5 cents to the topic.

- “Little Ricky smelled like whisky and beer. It was one of the best BAU moments.”

- “They called us at 3 in the morning, for Christ's sake!”- I argued and Pen giggled staring at me- “We had had a few drinks with some friends. It’s not like we were wasted.”

- “Jr. G man was so proud, though”- Garcia said - “I remember he told me he had so much fun that night, that your friends were the best, that everybody was nice to him. And that he even learned how to skateboard that night.” - I was about to add something to that memory, when JJ suddenly said.

- “Gideon really treated Spencer like a kid. Remember that birthday he gave Spence tickets to a football game, even when Spencer has never been a sports fan, so he could take me out on a date?”

Looking back at that moment, I think I should have noticed it was wrong that JJ kept bringing up every chance she could that she went out on a “date” with my husband. Penelope and Kate looked at me, waiting for my reaction, but I just shrugged and smiled.

- “He is screwed now, my family forces him to have football Sundays when we get together. And call me crazy, but I think he enjoys it.”

About two hours later, we got a call from Rossi and Spencer. They had a clue. Apparently, Gideon had been killed by an unsub they never caught in the area back in 1978.

- “The last thing Gideon did was to shoot a bird painting. I think he was trying to tell us that his killer is the same one from a case we worked on in 1978.”- Rossi said through the line.

- “So it was someone he locked up.”- Kate suggested, but the answer was no.

- “No, those murders went unsolved.”

- “So if this wasn't about revenge on Gideon if he didn't lock the guy up, then what was this?”- Morgan asked, looking confused.

- “We all knew Jason, he might have retired from the BAU, but there is no way he ever stopped working. I’m sure he was investigating that case if he never solved it back in the days.”- I said, thinking it was a very Gideon thing to do: retire to never ever retire indeed.

- “Exactly, maybe he went after Gideon because he was back on the case again.”- Rossi agreed with me.

- “The unsub was strangling 20-something brunettes.”- Spencer said through the line and I wished I could be with him, holding his hand. - “Garcia, were there any female bodies found in Roanoke County in the past few days?”

- “Let me check the crystal web ball.”- after a few seconds, Pen had the answer. - “Yes. An unidentified woman in her 50s was found in a shallow grave just outside of Salem.”

- “Was she strangled?”- Rossi asked right away.

- “That's the mystery. There was no foul play.”- Garcia answered shaking her head.

- “Was there a dead bird in her hand?”- Spencer asked and we all frowned, confused.

- “What? Eew. None of that fowl play either.”- Pen looked grossed

- “Hon, why the bird? Is that his signature?”- I asked.- “I’m guessing it wasn’t a random question.”

- “Yes, apparently, they were the unsub's obsession.”- Spencer answered.

- “So how did Gideon get back on the case?”- Kate questioned and looked at us - “I mean, he was retired, he should have been… bird watching. I don’t know.”

- “He saw the story in a national paper and it obviously piqued his interest.”- JJ suggested- “What are the chances that the same woods and the same ritual make headlines again?”

- “But the signature was missing.”- Kate pointed out.

- “It’s Gideon we are talking about. I think he knew something we haven’t discovered yet.”- I suggested and Hotch nodded. - “Or he had one hell of a hunch.”

- “That's why he drove to Roanoke. He needed to make sure it wasn't just a coincidence.”- Rossi supported my words through the line.

- “Well, clearly it wasn't.”- Morgan whispered.

- “And this woman would have been in her 20s back then. Age-wise, that's his type.”- Garcia pointed out and I nodded.

- “It's all there. He just connected the dots.”- I sighed and shook my head. - “If only he would have called us and asked for help.”

- “Don’t go there, principessa”- Rossi said from the other side of the line. - “What’s done it’s done. We can only try to help him finish what he needed to get done.”- I sighed one more time and nodded, which was incredibly stupid considering David couldn’t see me.

- “If she was a victim, then she was held captive for 37 years. Who knows what he did to her in all that time?”- Kate said and my mind went to a very dark place immediately. We needed to give that poor victim the justice she deserved as well.

- “What if he stopped killing because he found the victim he really wanted and held on to her?”- Spencer suggested.

- “Her recent death could have sent the unsub into a tailspin. He's probably gonna want to find someone new.”- Morgan added and we all nodded.

- “And if it's anything like what he did before, he may hunt and kill until he finds the right one.”- JJ added the part we knew but didn’t want to think of: that it might be the start of a new massacre.

- “We'll meet you in Roanoke, Dave.”- Hotch said and we all started walking outside. Only Garcia and JJ remained at the cabin, retracing Gideon’s last steps, while, Kate, Morgan, Hotch, and I got into an SUV and drove to town.

On our way over we kept talking on the phone with Rossi, Spencer Garcia, and JJ. When we got to Roanoke I was paired with Morgan, which was nice. He didn’t ask much about how I was feeling, we both focused on the case and tried our best to be professional and headed to the morgue to identify the victim’s body.

- “That ink's pretty faded.”- Derek pointed out staring at a butterfly tattoo on the victim’s ankle.

- “Yeah, she must have got that 40 years ago.”- I whispered and turned to the M.E - “What was the C.O.D.?”

- “Cancer.”- he answered with a troubled stare in his eyes. Clearly, something was bothering him.

- “Cancer?”- I questioned and he just nodded.

- “She was riddled with it. No evidence of tissue damage from chemo or radiation.”- the forensic started explaining- “At first I thought her severe muscle atrophy and bone loss was a side effect of the disease. And she clearly lost her appetite, because her stomach shrunk to half its size.”

- “You said at first you thought it was about the disease. What changed your mind?”- Morgan took the words from me as he looked at the M.E. waiting for an answer.

- “Well, I hadn't finished the exam when I explained all of this to the other one… what's his name?”- there was a brief silence after that question, Derek and I looked at each other immediately.

- “Gideon.”- I replied, trying to look like it wasn’t weird at all to talk about him like he hadn’t been just killed.

- “Yes, him. Now that I've had time to fully examine the body, it tells a different story. She's got ripped ligaments between her pelvic girdle and femur bone like her legs had been dislocated multiple times. She's got calluses like she was crawling around like a limp dog.”

Every word that explained the excruciating pain that poor woman had been through during all the years she had been held captive, hurt me. I can’t imagine how Gideon felt to know she had been alive all those years, waiting for someone to rescue her.

- “Have you ever seen that before?”- I dared to ask, though I imagined the answer.

- “Yes. On three young women many years ago.”

It was the same unsub.

Hotch, Spencer, and Rossi were waiting for us outside the morgue. My husband was holding a paper bag with a bagel and a hot cup of coffee.

- “You need some breakfast.”- he whispered as I smiled, blushing. Yes, I would still blush every time he made a sweet gesture like that. I hadn’t even finished opening the bag when JJ called and he put her on speaker.

- “Hey, Hotch, there's another missing woman. You need to get to the library on Third and Main right now.”

And off we were. At least I was finally with Spencer again.

Spencer’s point of view

That day was hard. Hard doesn’t even begin to explain it, but for the lack of a better word, let’s go with “hard.” Everything had been uphill. I even called Sofia and asked if I could video chat with my daughter as we drove back from talking with the victim’s mother. That was a balm for my soul. Finally being with my wife helped as well. I understand Rossi wanted to put an eye on me and talk about what was going on, but I really didn’t want to be apart from her that day. She was my happy place.

- “Today’s victim, Josie Behdart, 23, single, she walked to work. Local cops just found her cell phone in a trash can and, surprise, no cameras.”- Kate said as she and Hotch walked toward us at the library parking lot, holding a police file with all the info about the abduction.

- “And all the original reports confirm that each of the victims was taken within a mile of this library.”- our Unit Chief added.

- “Well, needless to say, this guy has a comfort zone to hunt”- (Y/N) pointed out and I nodded.

- “It hasn't changed since '78.”- Morgan added - “My guess is there's another significance to this location.”

- “A library could be an ideal hunting ground. A haven for the lonely. Let me check it out.”- I said and started walking. But before taking another step I turned around and looked at my wife. I didn’t even have to say a word, she was already walking behind me.

Honestly, it felt good to know she wasn’t going to leave my side. And no, that is not something I could ever take for granted.

- “You haven’t taken off your scarf.”- (Y/N) whispered as we walked to the main door of the library's old building.

- “I love this scarf, you gave it to me on January 16th, 2006, almost two months after we met.”- I pointed out and she smiled. Not your regular “that’s funny” smile, a hearty one. A “I love you smile.” I live for those smiles from her.

- “I know, honey. I remember that day too. But what I meant was it's not cold anymore, aren’t you warm?”

- “No, I’m ok. Have you talked with your mom?”

- “Yeah, she and Raven were out for a walk.”

- “Ok Reids. What are we looking for?”- Morgan showed up at our side and looked around. Kate followed him quickly and smiled at us as she said.

- “What? We weren’t going to miss a trip to the library, it’s where the cool kids hang out.”

It was obvious the team was now trying to put an eye on us, maybe even support us or cheer us up a little bit. And it was sweet, in a way. I knew we all loved each other, and we were there in good and bad.

- “Hope you are ok”- JJ texted me a few minutes later, proving my theory. It was nice to know we all had each other’s backs.

I didn’t have much time to reply to JJ’s text because we were pretty busy at the library. It was a small town and Gideon hadn’t gone undetected by the locals. Hotch and Rossi waited for us in a cafeteria, and as soon as we walked back in, we gave them the news.

- “The librarian remembers Gideon. He got a temporary card, checked out these books in the morning, and left them in the drop box on his drive home last night.”- I left the books on the table and moved a chair for my wife, as we all sat at the table with Hotch and Rossi.

- “He left the library and came here to read books.”- Callahan whispered sadly as he sat down, probably trying to see which one of the seats he had taken.

- “Yeah, that is just classic Gideon and classic profiling.”- (Y/N) added and kept her eyes on the book on the table. - “I don’t know why I find it comforting knowing exactly what he did that last day.”

- “He sat right here to let the unsub know he was watching.”- Morgan said, nodding.

- “But if Gideon was so sure he lured the right guy, why didn't he tell us?”- my wife questioned and looked at us. I couldn’t give him an answer, because I asked myself the same the entire day.

- “It's like the unsub was his white whale.”- Kate analyzed and her words made sense. - “He wanted to catch him on his own, and his last move was when the unsub targeted him.”

- “The age of the victims has stayed the same as the unsub has aged.”- Hotch pointed out. - “It speaks to his arrested development.”

- “So the question is what it's always been: Why them? Why now?”- Morgan commented and (Y/N) nodded.

- “Back to profiling one on one.”- and we all sighed - “Ok, give me those books, let’s see what Gideon was reading about.”

We all read for a while, I tried to do it as fast as possible, but I was having a hard time concentrating. The waitress brought us coffee, which we all gladly welcomed, and offered us pie. Hotch said no and I nearly pouted. I could have had some. I needed sugar to function.

- “This is it. Nelson's sparrow.”- Rossi pointed at a book after a while.- “It's what the unsub left in their hands because its behavior matched that of the insecure victims.”

- “So the unsub really knew his birds and where to find them.”- Morgan said, looking exhausted. I’m sure we all looked like that considering we hadn’t slept at all.

- “Is there some kind of bird lovers club in the area?”- Kate asked and (Y/N) grabbed her phone right away.

- “Let me call an expert. Hey Garcia, you are on speaker. Tell me, are there any nature centers or bird-watching chapters in the area?”

- “There's an old-timey bird-watching group called the Flappers, median age of like 89. They started in the sixties. Most of the members have gone extinct.”- Garcia announced in a matter of seconds.

- “And chances are the unsub and his victims weren't a part of that group, so where else would he meet them?”- Kate asked, as Aaron grabbed the picture of the unsub’s victim and showed it to us.

- “Tara was his ideal.”

- “What made her so special for him?”- (Y/N) asked, focusing on the image.

- “Tara's mother said she was broken.”- Rossi pointed out.

- “And he knew that because he spent more time watching her than the others.”- Hotch commented.

- “So he was basically a stalker. He was able to study her, not just glance as she passed by the window.”- (Y/N) said and I nodded along her words.

- “She was a few years out of high school when she disappeared. Maybe he knew her from there.”- Morgan analyzed, but it didn’t really make much sense.

- “She wasn't very social.”- I said, trying to connect their lives, with how they lived.

- “Well, neither was he, hon.”- (Y/N) said and rubbed my hand with her as she smiled at me for a moment.

- “They were both in their 20s when she was taken.”- Hotch pointed out. - “If they weren't friends in high school, maybe they worked together?”

- “Tara's mom said right out of school she bagged groceries.”- I added and Garcia replied in a matter of seconds.

- “I've got Tara working at Joe's on Main summer of '76 through '77.”

- “Are there any employees at Joe's supermarket who started in the seventies and are still there?”- Hotch asked and I raised an eyebrow.

- “You do realize you are asking for the impossible, right?”- (Y/N) whispered and our Unit Chief simply raised an eyebrow.

- “But I’m asking Garcia, I know she delivers.”

- “Well, that's nearly 40 years ago in a galaxy far, far away that wasn't using my magic binary boxes, but, yeah, the place is still family-owned and operated. Give me a hot minute.”

- “Thank you, Pen.”- (Y/N) said and I held her hand as she cut me a little smile.

- “Ok. Three of the people still working there are women. That leaves two males. There's a name I've heard before. Mallick.”- it took Garcia less than two minutes to gather the whole information. A new record.

- “Who?”- Hotch asked, confused.

- “Gertie Mallick was one of the founding members of the bird group. Died in 1974. Her next of kin was her nephew Donnie Mallick, who inherited her farm and... buys enough birdseed to let me know I should send you his address.”

We had a suspect and most likely, our Unsub. Gideon’s murderer.

As Hotch drove us to Mallick’s last known address in the middle of nowhere, I couldn’t stop analyzing his life. His mother gave birth to him at only fourteen, and at eighteen she was sent to a mental facility for schizophrenia, and her four-year-old son was sent to live with his only living kin, a 72-year-old wheelchair-bound Aunt Gertrude. A part of me pitied him. He never had a normal life, he had most likely inherited his mother’s condition. I could relate to the fear and the pain.

But he had killed Jason Gideon. My mentor, my biggest influence. I wanted to shoot the guy, I wanted to give Gideon peace and give some sense of what had happened.

That was until I heard his voice in the back of my head as I remembered one conversation we once shared when I still was struggling to pass my firearm qualification exam.

- “Hotch told me that when he came to the BAU, you told him he didn't need a gun to kill somebody?”- I questioned Gideon and he nodded.

- “The only truly effective weapon we have is our ability to do the one thing they can't.”

- “Which is what?”

- “Empathize. They dehumanize their victims, we humanize the killers.”

I took a deep breath and nodded to myself. I wasn’t going to let my emotions take the best of me that day.

When we got to the house, we divided, and luckily, (Y/N) stayed with me as we went through the back. The gunshot warned us in a matter of minutes, Rossi got the unsub. And he was dead. I thought I was gonna be relieved to see him there, but no. I just felt sad for him, for his life, and for the women he had tortured and killed. At least Gideon’s work was finished.

Did Mallick give a reason to Rossi to pull the trigger? I don’t know. But I know I’m glad it wasn’t me. I wanted to go home and still be myself. A good version of myself. One that could be Raven’s dad and (Y/N)’s husband.

I was gonna miss Gideon, always, but I knew I was never gonna be him, and that was a good thing. 

Next chapter (post date: october 2nd)

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

[miodiodavinci]

(head in hands) man.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[priestfrommidnightmass]

he could absolutely break my heart eventually. and i genuinely couldn’t care less

[gregmarriage]

🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

going through a depressive episode rn, and like yeah, yeah, it’ll pass, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck twenty seven balls in the meantime

[chuluoyi]

𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

he is your husband and you are his wife. but of course you know the bitter truth—you will never be able to replace her.

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, drunken sex, mentions of injury, blood, hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here), spoilers! from zayne’s bond story nostalgic sweetness

note: wc. 8k ! i've been having these bits and pieces scenarios for zayne in mind and then i thought what if i combined it all into one angst joyride? :)) tagging per request: @kissxcore @rjreins @i2s2m @tom-pls-fuck-me @yueyoonie @sanriosatoru

07.15 p.m

Zayne would be getting off work soon. He had just finished an emergency surgery, and it had been exhausting. Now it was quite late.

“Dr. Zayne! Great job today!” Greyson exclaimed, suddenly strolling into his consultation room with a grin. “Want to grab dinner with us?”

Honestly, he was starving too. “Where?”

“Oh, you know, that new place that just opened nearby! They have the tastiest tiramisu, or so I’ve heard. C’mon, we’re inviting the nurses too!”

He knew he needed to head home soon, but fatigue and hunger blurred his thoughts at the mention of dessert.

“Alright.”

. . .

08.25 p.m

Getting together with the hospital staff was always nice. They were rowdy, but it was definitely a great way to unwind after a hard day.

The tiramisu was as great as Greyson said. Speaking of his assistant, he and Yvonne were having a blast. Other doctors were getting drunk. Zayne could only shake his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been here quite a while.

It was only when he turned on his phone and saw the time that he realized, with sinking heart that—

He was supposed to meet you at six.

If you were asked how you felt about your life now, you’d be hard-pressed to say you were completely content.

You were a stellar fighter in the Hunter Association, more than content with your job, and you had a good husband. To some, you had what they would call the perfect life.

The wife of the Dr. Zayne. True, it was a flattering title, yet unbeknownst to everyone, also a humbling one.

And the notion struck you once again when your husband of almost two years stood you up on your dinner date without so much as a notice.

“Miss... we’re about to close now...” The waitress approached your table for at least the third time, and you nodded sheepishly, finally finishing your meal.

You paid for it and left the restaurant. The chilly night air hit your skin, giving you goosebumps as you walked home. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Granted, Zayne had a packed schedule, and you figured he might've had an urgent matter to attend to that he forgot to let you know.

Still... it hurts. Knowing you were not a priority in your husband’s eyes wasn’t a fun feeling.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you arrived at your shared home. Your husband’s name flashed on your screen. The time now was 08.40 p.m.

“Hello, Zayne?”

“Y/N?” Your husband’s voice sounded frantic. “Are you still at the restaurant? I’m going—”

“Ah, no need to. I’m going home.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Stay there—”

“I’ve already arrived.”

An awkward silence settled between you, and you could clearly hear the noise on the other end. Greyson’s laughter was unmistakable.

You forced a laugh, still trying to sound cheerful for him even when realizing that he had completely forgotten about you. “It’s totally fine, Zayne! Are you heading back?”

“Yeah...”

“Take care then. See you at home.”

You ended the call with a sigh, trying to shake off the sting in your heart. As you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, you passed by a large portrait on the wall, and a bittersweet sensation washed over you.

Your wedding photo. Both of you were smiling on what was the most wonderful day of your life. Zayne’s smile was reserved, but yours was radiant.

It is the most wonderful thing that has happened to you... but is it the same for him?

At that time, despite everything, you were convinced a lifetime of happiness awaited you, yet now... it got harder to fool yourself into believing it.

Your marriage has always been lukewarm.

Zayne wasn’t an overly excited person, and you were his opposite—but try as you might, some things between you just didn’t work out. As a result, both of you tended to keep certain things to yourselves.

Most days, this didn't bother him. He valued his privacy, so the way things were suited him just fine. However, several days later, when Greyson approached him with a worried expression and a news, even Zayne had to draw the line.

“Dr. Zayne? Uh, how do I say this? I think I saw your wife being wheeled in earlier with the injured from the hunt zones raid…”

. . .

“Your husband is a doctor here. Why aren’t you calling him?”

Xavier, your fellow Deepspace Hunter who was partnered with you in this mission, questioned you with a hint of annoyance as he observed your pathetic state on the stretcher and crossed his arms. “Why do you have to bleed out in ER when you can get him?”

You winced, pressing the bloodied cloth against your stinging abdomen as you felt yourself growing faint. “He’s... a surgeon,” you panted. “He’s busy.”

Above all, you didn’t want Zayne to see you like this. You could already imagine his angry face, and that mental image alone made you recoil.

“What sort of husband is busy when his wife is injured?” Xavier raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least notify him?”

You shut your eyes, feeling a migraine coming.

“I will then.”

“No.”

“Y/N, you—”

“Shut up, Xavier—”

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you braced yourself for whoever had come to check on you next. To your surprise, the cloth in your hand was snatched away, and you felt your uniform being torn open with urgency.

When you opened your eyes, you barely made out your husband’s figure through your hazy vision. “…Zayne?”

His expression was stern, unforgiving even, as he started to disinfect your wound. Despite the tension, you couldn't deny the relief that washed over you. You knew you were in good hands, even if you had to face his fury later on.

Your consciousness slipped away not long after that.

. . .

The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a private room, with a nagging itch where you had been injured.

You groaned, your limbs stiff and heavy, and the room slowly came into focus—along with your husband's face.

"Zayne?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He stood pristine in his white coat and glasses, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Your wound is, thankfully, shallow," he said flatly, his tone lacking any real concern. "You'll be discharged tonight. I'll take you home as soon as my shift is over."

"Ah..." You blinked several times to clear your head. "Good then. Sorry for showing up out of nowhere. Xavier and I were on a rescue mission, and I accidentally—"

He walked away before you could finish, the abruptness snapping you fully awake. He was furious, that much was clear.

"Ha ha..." You forced a laugh, fiddling with your fingers, trying to ease the awkward tension between you. "It doesn't hurt much, actually. You're right—I'm fine..."

Zayne shot you a sharp glance. "You passed out due to blood loss."

"This isn't the first time it has happened and nor will it be—"

"And it didn't even occur to you to inform me at all. I found out that my own wife was wounded because Greyson passed by the ER and saw you."

His words left you silent, caught red-handed, but your annoyance was reaching its limit. You had imagined how nice it would be if he panicked about you, showering you with care when he found out. But instead, Zayne chose to rebuke you the moment you woke up.

“I’m not a child,” you reasoned, keeping yourself calm. “I’m a hunter. This is nothing new, and you should understand that.”

“The least you could’ve done is to tell me—“

“Do you know why I didn’t? It’s because I know how you’ll react!”

“—and it would do you better to prioritize your safety and not rush headfirst into danger.”

“Believe me, I do but—!”

Suddenly, Zayne spun around to face you, his eyes blazing with fury as he raised his voice. “I’ve told you so many times already, you have to stay back, or you’ll end up—!”

He stopped abruptly, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, but right at that moment, you knew all too well who he meant, and what the implication was.

His, without a doubt, greatest love. His childhood friend, a hunter like yourself, someone he had vowed to save but succumbed to her illness before he could do so, died on arrival.

The irony was sharp. You had become everything she once was. You knew her well, too. When she passed, the entire Hunter Association mourned her loss. And more than that, on the night she died, you had been with him.

Looking back, you should have seen it coming. Still, it hit you like a splash of cold water. Your husband was still preoccupied with thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, and worse yet, he saw pieces of her in you.

And you suspected he had for a while—perhaps even, from the very beginning.

For a second there, not for the first time, you felt your heart shatter.

“I don’t have Protocore syndrome,” you stated, steeling yourself against the heartbreak. “My heart won't suddenly fail because I get injured. I’m not that weak.”

You turned away as Zayne refused to respond, missing his look of disdain as he stormed out of the room.

That was when your first tear fell.

Right from the start, you knew you had to brace yourself for this. You knew that eventually, this tragedy would overshadow your marriage. Because while Zayne might be your husband by law, deep down, his heart still belonged to someone else.

To her.

You two are too much alike.

It wasn’t the first time he had noticed it. And it wouldn’t be the last.

On bad mornings, when his eyes were bleary and he hadn't had a good sleep, he would see her instead of you in your shared bed. And with that mistaken sight came a fleeting sense of relief... until his vision cleared and he remembered she was truly gone and it was you.

Zayne knew how wrong this was on so many levels. It was terribly unfair to you.

Still, his concern for you was genuine. Seeing you lying still on the stretcher brought back that very same nightmare, and really, he truly never wanted you to be hurt.

After his outburst and your clipped response, the two of you barely exchanged any words for the rest of the week. To make matters worse, he was sent on a business trip the following week, and all in all, you went two weeks hardly speaking to each other.

And before he knew it, her death anniversary was only a couple of days away.

. . .

"How much is this?"

"Ah, the bow is 50,000 Gold, sir!"

Inside the airport's souvenir shop, Zayne examined the intricate light blue and white bow clip. Made of tweed and adorned with small pearls, it looked nice.

He thought it'd suit you well.

"I'll get this then."

"Right away!"

As the clerk went to wrap the trinket, Zayne reflected on these past two weeks. A nagging feeling twisted in his gut as he thought about how curt he had been with you in text messages and how often you had left him on read.

Husband and wife shouldn't be this way. He wanted the unbearable air between you to end. Determined to resolve things, he planned to talk to you when he returned. He was on his way to the airport taxi when—

"Zayne!" He stopped in his tracks, recognizing the familiar voice, and turned around.

There you were, waiting by his car with a smile.

It was never in you to stay angry for long. It was a blessing and a curse, really, because while you no longer wished to give your husband silent treatment, a part of you still felt conflicted.

"How was your trip?" you asked as you started the engine, pushing the events of the past two weeks to the back of your mind.

Zayne didn't immediately answer, and you felt his gaze on you as you drove the car. "It was okay."

You hummed in acknowledgement, and he followed up with, "How is your wound? Do you dress it daily?"

"Mm-hm. It's getting better."

"I'll have a look at it later."

"Sure."

Silence. Usually you would ramble to distract him, but now, even you weren’t sure if you should.

Then, he said, "You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have made my way home on my own."

To that, you pasted on a smile. “You always pick me up whenever I have to go on business trips. It’s only fair I do the same for you, husband.”

Ah. Was it the wrong move? The word had slipped out so easily that you didn’t realize it until after you said it.

But to your surprise, Zayne let out a chuckle and played along. "Well, thank you then, wife. It certainly felt quite off without a certain someone the past week."

So, he actually likes having you around...? The thought made you almost giddy. Despite his usual taciturn and sarcastic demeanor, you knew he was genuine in his own way.

"Bet you missed me," you teased, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Nope. But I did miss getting new snowmen."

"...why do you like them so much? I've made plenty for you already."

"No particular reason. Snowman just kinda reminds me of you somehow."

The tension between you had melted away, and you felt a sense of relief. Beside you, even Zayne couldn’t hide his smile. For the rest of the drive home, you chatted like you used to.

When you arrived back at your shared home, he suddenly stopped and presented you with a little box. "I got you something."

"Huh?" you paused, bewildered, as he took your hand and placed the box in it.

"Open it."

With curiosity, you lifted the lid, and were surprised at the sight of a pretty bow clip inside. "Whoa, how cute..."

Zayne eyed you expectantly. "Do you like it?"

Your eyes lit up with delight, and a smile spread across your lips.

"Yes!" you beamed at him with zero hesitation, and in that moment, something struck a chord within him. Zayne had always thought you were easy on the eyes—

—but when you smiled like that, you were truly charming.

"It's healing nicely."

You felt somewhat self-conscious as your husband examined your bare abdomen, where your injury was, as you lied on your bed. His hands, cool and practiced, tenderly removed your stitches.

It wasn't as if Zayne had never touched you. You two had been married for almost two years, and of course you had been intimate several times, but it wasn't as if you were a passionate couple to begin with—so you often found yourself flustered.

"Mm." Despite yourself, you squirmed. Noticing this, he looked up at you, his unfazed eyes meeting yours with a frown.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really... It just feels as if you're tickling me."

He was positively unamused. "I'm not trying to tickle you."

"I know!"

Zayne wrapped your midsection securely with the bandage. When he was done, he let out a sigh and you felt like you had to show him your gratitude somehow.

“Thank you, Zayne…” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. But in the next second, your heart skipped a beat as his hand rested gently on your head.

"You can thank me by being more careful next time." Your husband looked at you with the smallest of smile. "Your safety comes first, always remember that."

Without either of you realizing it, you both had tried to bury that argument from two weeks ago, yet it was still gnawing at you all the same. The thought that he too was bothered with it made you warm.

"Noted," you cheekily grinned. "If I'm not safe and sound, a certain iceman will get angry at me."

Zayne shot you an unimpressed look. “If you come to me injured again, I’ll start charging you fees.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How stingy! I'm your wife, not just some stranger!"

"A very uncooperative wife, you are."

You huffed, and he chuckled. You really thought all was well between you two now, until Zayne suddenly stood up and grabbed the car keys. “Well then, rest. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stop by the florist—”

And it hit you. In two days. The day everything ended three years ago.

Zayne seemed to realize it too, but you quickly masked your falling smile with a faux one. "O-oh, right..."

No matter how, it's still going to be an important day to him. You had nothing against it, really. Your husband's late girlfriend had once been your colleague too, and you mourned her just like everyone else did.

Still, even with that understanding, in your heart of hearts, it remains just as bitter.

You didn't want to, but you needed to find closure. You hoped that by doing this, it would finally put an end to all your insecurities.

"Let's go together, Zayne. I want to pay her a visit too."

Two days later, you and Zayne, a bouquet of flowers in hand, stood before the grave bearing many colorful flowers and postcards.

You supposed you knew already, but seeing it firsthand, you realized just how deeply she was loved still. The outpouring of respect from the Hunter Association was evident in the tribute left behind.

"It's been a while," Zayne, dressed in his most formal black suit, said solemnly, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the pristine stone.

You watched as he knelt to place his flowers and then brought his hands together in prayer. You followed his lead, placing your own bouquet beside his.

What should you even say to her? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, but none felt right to voice before the woman who had so deeply captured your husband's heart.

In the end, when you sensed that Zayne had finished with his prayer, you decided to remain silent and rose with him.

. . .

“Does it get easier?” you asked out of curiosity afterwards. “Three years has passed already.”

Although Zayne wasn’t one for drinking, even the need won today. He didn’t meet your eyes as he sipped his wine, humming thoughtfully. “Somewhat. As they say, time heals.”

You two stopped by a fine restaurant after visiting the grave. The cemetery had been a two-hour drive from Linkon City, and now it was already evening.

“She loved jasmines,” you remarked, recalling the pot of them you once saw on her desk and the flowers overflowing at the grave earlier.

“She did.” The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue as he continued, “She loved old popsicles and macarons too.”

“And you like them as well.”

“To be honest, I started liking them back when we were kids…” Zayne had this pained, faraway look in his eyes as he had another sip. “She cried over her melted popsicle and it got me to wonder if it was really that tasty...”

The idea that you had to compete with a dead woman for your husband’s affection left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you had failed thoroughly as a woman.

Despite hating yourself for asking, you needed to know. “Do I help you… in any way at all?”

Zayne was clearly taken aback by the question. His sharp, gray eyes locked onto you, mind whirred as he tried to grasp your meaning.

“Y/N, you...”

It was foolish, you knew. But you waited with bated breath for his response, even when one wrong word could shatter your heart beyond repair. You were ready for any sort of unfavorable answer, but then—

“I... am glad it is you.”

His words made you look up, and you found yourself caught in his gaze. Zayne’s ashen eyes were steady, piercing into you.

“You were there on the hardest days. And ever since, you’ve always stayed by my side.” He held your gaze firmly, voice was thick with emotion you couldn’t quite name. “I’m grateful for that.”

And then, with a sincerity that pierced through every uncertainty, he added, “What I want to say is... I’m glad I married you, Y/N.”

You have loved him for so long. Since the days when you know he isn’t yours to love, until now.

Your heart swelled with so much warmth that tears brimmed in your eyes. His acknowledgment of your presence filled you with a profound sense of belonging you never knew you needed before.

Was it the alcohol?

You suspected it might be, because in nearly two years of marriage, Zayne had never lost his control like this. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pushed you against the wall and devoured your lips hungrily.

“Mmph!” His hands gripped your arms while his lips and tongue pried yours open. The kiss was searing, almost forceful, with the faint bitterness of wine still lingering.

“Zay…ne…” you gasped between his kisses—teary, breathless, your voice trembling.

But your breathy grunts only seemed to spur him on. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, fixed on you as his hands slipped beneath your blouse, deftly unclasping your bra with a flick.

He is hot. Your husband was everything a woman desired in a man. Cool, handsome, blessed with hands that could do wonders—

In no time, he had you naked and wet before him, and with alarming speed, he too discarded his own suit and pants, throwing them away in flurry. And you could hardly believe what you were seeing next.

He spitted on his hand, ran it along his member—stroking himself with a practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with you. The next thing you knew, he yanked you into another burning kiss and made you topple on top of him—

“Ah!” his hands guided your hips with precision, positioning you and entering you. The instant he did, you whimpered at the sudden, sharp sting of pain.

“Does it hurt?” he asked almost in a growl when you clung to his shoulder with uneven breaths.

It was too sudden, and you hoped the discomfort would pass, so you timidly shook your head.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” Zayne tangled his fingers in your hair, turning your face to his. “Understand?”

There was always a distinct, almost commanding aura about him whenever the two of you were in your marital bed. Perhaps the way his voice sound lower, but it just hit different.

And you are a willing prey... whenever he becomes that beast.

He inched inside you slowly, making you moan with each instance. He was thick, warm, and taking him in was a challenge in itself. And when he finally sheathed himself fully, your nails had made its first scratch on his skin.

You felt full, and the way your womanhood stretched and clenched around him with each breathe you took made you dizzy. Panting, you finally met his gaze. Zayne’s silver eyes were still clouded with desire as he placed his hands firmly on your hips. Unable to resist, you reached out to caress his face.

"Hmm..." he subconsciously leaned into your touch, pressing his eyes shut together. "You smell nice," he huskily muttered.

Right this moment, all negative thoughts eluded you. It felt gratifying that your husband sought your touch like this as you towered over him.

And yet, despite that...

“Do you... finally see me now?” you asked, trailing your other hand down his toned chest and starting to grind against him. Zayne drew in a sharp breath and groaned, his fingers gripping your bum tighter.

Depending on his response, you would either find peace or face another heartbreak. You had placed your happiness on this pedestal more times than you could count, and it was a cross you had to bear.

But you never received your answer.

Your husband merely gazed up at you with a dangerous gleam. And oh, you could've sworn, this sight of Zayne eyeing you as if he were about to ruin you right then and there, would live-free in your mind for many days to come.

He then buried his face in your bosom, sucking on you with such fervor that your hands instinctively reached for his head to massage his scalp. The room was soon filled with your erotic groans and the squelching sounds from where your flesh were joined together— as he thrusted inside you over and over.

Right in this moment, you felt truly desired and wanted.

You are so happy. Incomparably so.

At the crack of dawn, Zayne woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was how spent he felt, his limbs stiff and a throbbing headache pulsing at the back of his head.

Then he turned to his side, and the sight that met him twisted his gut in such a way that snapped him fully awake—

You were beside him, barely dressed and still deeply asleep. Your hair was a mess, and love bites were scattered across your skin, some on your chest looking almost like bruises.

It dawned on him that he, too, wasn’t decent. A sudden coldness gripped him, though it wasn’t just the morning air.

Him and you... last night...

Yesterday marked the third year. He meant everything he said to you, but the fact that he did this, with you, on the day of her death...

There was... nothing wrong with what he had done. You were his wife, no one could condone him for what he instigated. Yet, it still made him shiver.

And to make it worse, his thoughts from last night echoed back with vengeance, and—

He suddenly feels so immensely guilty.

. . .

It was the best sleep you’d had all week.

When you woke, sunlight had seeped through the window, and you discovered yourself already in pajamas, tucked snugly under a blanket. Still groggy with a dull ache in your lower belly, you relished the lingering afterglow, sighing in pure contentment, until you noticed Zayne wasn’t beside you.

Where did he go? You wondered amidst your haze. Sluggish, you stumbled out of the bed, flinching when your foot met the cold floor.

You eventually found him downstairs, sipping coffee at the dining table still with messy hair. "Zayne?"

He glanced up at you and nodded. There was something different about him, a subtle shift you couldn’t quite place. As you took a seat across from him, you hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Before you could find the right words though, he spoke first.

"I'm... sorry," he said, his tone laced with regret, causing a sharp pang of unease inside you.

"What?" you stared at him, feeling small and unsettled. "What are you sorry for?" you questioned as you gripped the hem of your shirt.

And then came the killing blow—

"Last night," Zayne muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. It was a mistake."

Mistake. The word echoed in your mind, but it was still hard to grasp its full weight.

"How was that—" you faltered, trembling, as the realization hit you like a truck and you gasped in disbelief. "Oh..."

Her. Again, and again, and again! Even when he was married to you, even when you were the one next to him each and everyday— even so!

Your husband considers that a night spent with you—his wife—a mistake!

The last of your patience snapped, as you broke down in sobs before him. "You're the worst!" you screamed at him amidst your mournful tears.

Zayne seemed taken aback at your outburst, his eyes wide. "Y/N, wait, you don't—"

"Screw you!" But you were beyond explanations at this point. You fled back to your bedroom. Zayne followed you suit, but you slammed the door in his face and locked it. As you collapsed onto the floor, the realization hit you with full force.

No matter what you did, you would always come second—or not at all.

The fracture in your marriage was undeniable.

Things had changed. Your home felt colder, and the tension was so stifling that you sometimes spent the night at the Hunter Association’s dorm just to escape it.

Zayne initially tried to reach out, but you were unwilling to listen, and eventually, he gave up. Before long, nearly a month had passed with this strain in the air.

You threw yourself into more rescue operations, using work as a distraction from the turmoil that lingered in your mind. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself, the unresolved thoughts and feelings clung to you.

"Xavier, am I lacking as a woman?"

Your frequent partner these days cracked open an eye despite his attempt to nap before today’s rescue mission. "What...?"

"No, forget it."

Things couldn't go like this forever. It was obvious by now—as long as he couldn’t let go of his past and you couldn’t accept him as he was, this marriage couldn't be saved.

Just as you headed towards the printer in the room, Xavier responded. "You talk a lot, eat a lot, and always bothering me when I'm about to sleep..."

You shot him an irked glance, disbelief evident on your face. "Hey!"

"But—" his clear voice cut through the air as he turned to you with half-lidded eyes. "You're exceptionally kind. If anyone can't appreciate that, then it's their loss."

At that moment, the ice inside your chest melted. To know that your own co-worker thought that kindly of you gave you a little boost of confidence.

But then Xavier added, "Sometimes you're stupid too. It's funny to watch."

"—?! You're so mean!"

A subtle smile curved on his lips as he turned to his side, ready to resume his nap. "Anyway, what are you printing?"

You feigned a huff as you gathered the papers and brought them to your desk. "Just something I need to submit when necessary."

A part of you wasn’t fully committed to it, of course—it was just that your emotions had no proper outlet even until now. As you pushed the drawer shut, a wave of bitterness washed over you as you reread the title on the blank form:

Petition for Divorce.

Zayne genuinely wanted to treat you well.

You were a nice girl. Too nice even. From the moment he laid his eyes on you some years ago, as a friend of a friend, he knew you were nothing but kind and cheery.

He still remembered that morning vividly: the hurt on your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, and then you breaking into inconsolable sobs. That sight inflicted something in him—it felt as though his own heart had been split in two.

Believe it or not, he cherished you too.

That night, even though he didn’t show it, he was still mourning her. When alcohol took over his mind and he saw you, you seemed like a perfect escape. He thought that even if he forced himself on you, there would be no consequences.

He hated that he had thought that way. He hated that how, in the end, you had become a means of relief for him.

Now you couldn't even look him in the eye, and Zayne didn't want to risk trying to coax you further. You were angry with him and rightly so, but when you ignored him and went home late more often, he was worried.

It was what drove him to volunteer for the rescue mission. When he saw your name on the hunter list, he felt compelled to make sure you were okay.

. . .

It was strange to see you on duty.

With your hunter uniform and your hair tied up, you were the picture of a very capable hunter. Zayne found himself unexpectedly following your movements as you came and went.

"Dr. Zayne, are you checking your wife out?" the EMT next to him teased with a grin. "Well, when you have a pretty wife such as Y/N, of course..."

He cleared his throat and the EMT giggled as he sauntered away.

So, you were also considered attractive here. Of course you were. Zayne knew it, but he just didn't expect that anyone here would blurt it out so openly.

But that wasn't the most surprising of all—

"Xavier, shush!" you playfully punched the blonde man next to you in the chest, your broad smile lighting up the moment. The two of you whispered closely, and Zayne found himself feeling uncomfortable, like being prickled by several needles.

He has never made you laugh so openly like that. The nagging feeling inside him grew stronger as he watched you—even if it was just in a platonic sense—with another man. It stirred something within him, making him want to pull that blonde aside, give him a word or two, and overthrow him altogether.

Amidst the growing storm inside him, you suddenly turned sideways and caught his eye, and Zayne could've sworn... he felt time stopped at that moment.

It was so candid that it took his breath away. The way your earnest, unclouded eyes met his. How natural you were while loading your gun...

Ah, they were right. His wife was exceptionally pretty.

But before he could fully appreciate it, you broke the eye contact and turned away, pretending as if you hadn’t seen him at all.

Zayne wondered then, why did he feel so hurt all of a sudden?

Battlefields were always a place of chaos, and Zayne was no stranger to it.

He was on standby at the makeshift hospital as patients surged in, continuously aiding first-aid. Some were hunters on duty, and his heart was in his throat the entire time, anxiously hoping you wouldn’t be among them.

"Doc... it still hurts," a little girl sniffled right after Zayne wrapped her injured arm with the gauze. Despite the anxiety, seeing this tearful girl softened his frown.

"It's just going to take a while, hmm?" he patted the kid in the head. "It's going to be better soon enough."

"My mom is still inside..." she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "Doc, will they get her out?"

Zayne hesitated, his thoughts briefly drifting to you. He managed a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, they’ll—"

Crash! —all of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the hospital, the sound echoing through the chaos. The little girl clung to his coat in fear.

"Call for retreat!" someone suddenly shouted from outside. "Alert all personnel immediately!"

Retreat. The thought that you might be safe soon brought him a sense of relief. He turned to the girl, trying to keep his composure.

"Look, the hunters are retreating, it means most are already evacuated." Zayne managed a reassuring smile. "Stay here. I'll help you find her later, okay?"

He went to the survivors' camp outside, attending to the wounded and keeping a vigilant eye on each returning hunter. Even until 30 minutes later, he still hadn't seen you. Thinking to contact you, he reached out for his phone.

"Who hasn't gotten out?" Jenna, your team leader, demanded the receiver with a stern voice, standing tall several feet away from the camp, and Zayne overheard the snippets of her conversation.

A frantic voice responded, "Xavier is still inside! Y/N too!"

"Those two! They are always—!"

What?

Zayne almost dropped his phone when he heard your name. Terror gripped him instantly, and then suddenly, again, it was his greatest nightmare realized.

You are still inside. You could be hurt. It was possible you had no means to get out of there.

He didn’t register letting go of his coat or crossing the police line—all that mattered was getting to you. He sprinted away, ignoring the shouts of those trying to stop him.

No. Not again!

Debris flew everywhere, and the roars of Wanderers grew louder as he neared the building wreckage. As a splinter was about to hit him, ice shot through his palms, creating a barrier that shattered it.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are you?!"

All he could think about was the memory of you bleeding out in the ER. Zayne never wanted to see that again. Should anything happen to you now...

He didn't want you to be hurt. He hated seeing you cry. For the past weeks, it had torn him apart to see you so unhappy. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, the one you looked at with love.

The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet it wasn’t an epiphany but a simple truth he had always known but never fully grasped until now.

If he lost you now, it'd destroy him.

He continued screaming your name over and over. And then, after turning several turns, he finally saw you, standing alone in the middle of the wreckage—

You turned to him in surprise when you heard your name in his shout, and were rooted to the spot, in disbelief that your husband was right before you.

Zayne felt a wave of relief wash over him, until a hollow croak from above caught his attention. He squinted—

A glass panel had crumbled and was falling directly towards you.

A sense of dread so great overwhelmed him, a lump formed in his throat, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. He sprinted forward, and with everything he had, he pushed you out the way.

The next thing he knew, everything went pitch black.

"Zayne? Zayne!"

A memory flashed in his mind's eye. The one memory he wished he didn't have to relive ever again.

Sitting on the deserted hospital bench, his eyes were vacant. Utter hollowness choked him, leaving him motionless. It was over. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt as if there were.

Your grip on his shoulder was tight, shaking him. "Zayne, snap out of it!" and only then he brought himself to meet your eyes.

"She died." That was the only thing he could mutter, pain woven in each word. "She really died."

Your eyes widened in horror, an inaudible gasp left your lips. "Oh..."

He didn't really know what happened next, but he remembered the warmth from when you pulled him to your arms, when sobs wracked his body as he thought the world was ending.

Since then, you have always been there.

And subconsciously, he may have regarded you as his lifeline.

. . .

Another memory.

"Are you awake...?"

His mind was hazy, but he recognized your voice. He blearily opened his eyes to find you placing a cool compress on his forehead.

"Who would have thought the great Dr. Zayne can get a fever?" you said with a soft laugh, patting his hair. "Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep."

You came to see him. He remembered telling you not to. But you still did, and the fact thawed the ice in his heart.

Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out and pulled you closer. "Don’t go."

"Are you trying to make me catch your cold too?" you teased with a soft laugh.

"Hmph. Who told you to come here...?"

"Ah, so you're whiny when you're not feeling well," you observed with a smile. "Okay, I'll stay! But only if you agree to nurse me if I catch your cold!"

You were noisy, but endearingly so.

. . .

"Don't pay her any mind," you fidgeted on your seat, a frown on your face. "My mom always does that."

There was never any talk about the nature your relationship between the two of you, but it was clear to everyone nevertheless. You were always around him, and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

And not for the first time, your mother pushed him towards marriage with you.

"People are always getting the wrong idea," you grumbled. "Sorry, Zayne..." you lowered your head, seemingly in regret.

He was puzzled, because to him, it wasn't necessarily false. All things you did together lead to this.

"What if it isn't a wrong idea at all?"

You looked at him with slight surprise. "Huh...?"

Your presence was a gift. That tragedy was devastating, but having you constantly by his side made it bearable. He was fond of you, and the thought that if it's you, then surely...

In this memory, he was more sure than ever. What he said then, it came from the truest place in his heart.

"What if I told you... as of right now, I can't imagine being with anyone but you?"

The side of his head was throbbing with pain. Everything hurt, the hard asphalt was bruising his face as the headache set in. He could smell the scent of blood and sweat, but more than that—

"Zayne! Ah, hah— Please, please! No!"

Your voice, choked with tears, blared in his ears as you desperately shook him. You sounded so heartbroken, so utterly panicked, and your voice gradually pulled him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes took tremendous effort. At first, everything was a blur, but then it came into focus—the sight of you disheveled, smeared with soot, with tears streaming down your face. But still you— the woman he had married two years ago.

Yet his heart lurched. You're crying again... why is it that whenever with me, you're always crying?

"Are you... alright?" he rasped, lifting his hand to touch your face.

"Why did you—" You were startled by his question, your gaze fixed on the blood pooling on the side of his face. "Your head is bleeding!"

Ah, so you're fine. The sheer knowledge brought him relief, a faint smile forming at his lips. "I'm glad..."

"I'll help you get back! Hold onto me—" you said after brushing away your tears, lifting him up and draping his arm around your shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"I'm... fine..."

"You're not!" you refuted harshly, voice trembling. "You have to go back!"

You made him lean on you as you made your way back to the makeshift hospital, each step accompanied by your sniffles as you supported his waist.

Zayne glanced at you, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the migraine. "D-Don't cry... I'll be fine."

"You're an idiot!" you choked out, struggling to hold back your tears. "Why did you even come out here?"

"I... have to find you. They said you haven't returned."

"There are still civilians inside! I'll return eventually!"

"I can’t wait for that. I... have to know you're safe."

His response only fueled your frustration. "You don't have to—!"

"You are my wife—" he snapped, turning to you sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "How can I not worry— for you?"

The forceful tone in his voice went straight to the most tender part of your heart. It really struck you at that moment that he had come out here for you, that his concern for you was that profound.

And that after all these weeks, he still keeps you in his thoughts.

He had pushed you out of the way, even at the cost of himself, barely missing the fallen billboard in that violent crash. If he was in the wrong position, he could've lost his life.

You stared at him, tears glossing your eyes.

"That's enough... Don't cry again." Zayne reached out to wipe your cheeks. His hands, however, were smeared with his own blood, leaving streaks on your face. "Ah... I got blood on you..."

But in that moment, you couldn’t care less. There was this indescribable sting of grief, but also paired with a sense of relief so great in your chest the very second you realize that now, he sees you.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you sobbed, calling out to him in broken voice. “Z-Zayne...!”

“Why are you crying again...?” he let out a resigned sigh, but still embraced you regardless. “What a crybaby...”

You buried your face deeper into him, shaking uncontrollably. “You... saved me...” you managed to say amidst torrent of tears. “Y-You... got hurt...”

“I’ll be fine,” he retorted in your ear albeit in a hoarse voice, holding you close, even as blood trickled down the side of his face. “And I’d do it again. I refuse to see you hurt.”

You cried harder, and he pulled you tighter, his chest aching at the sight of you so inconsolable. And in that moment, he made the decision right then and there.

He will protect you so long as time will allow him to.

It was as if the invisible wall between you had crumbled to dust after that incident. You stayed by Zayne's side night and day, monitoring his condition.

And one night, several days later...

"Here, don't move..."

You carefully dressed the wound on Zayne's temple, sitting close beside him. He quietly observed your worried eyes and trembling fingers without a word.

"You even need stitches..." you lamented, biting your lip as you wrapped the bandage around his head. Tears pricked your eyes, overwhelmed by the concern you were pouring into the task.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he gruffly insisted in an attempt to erase the sadness from your face. He felt the delicate, almost hesitant touch of your fingers on his face. "It'll heal with time."

Even as he said that, a part of you was still troubled at the sight of the wound on his head and cheekbone. No matter what he said, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault.

"I'm done. Now go rest," you said softly, your voice tinged with bitterness after tying the gauze. You rose to put the kit away, but even after you finished, Zayne remained upright on the bed, so you leveled a frown at him.

"What, why aren't you— Ah!"

Before you knew it, he pulled you by the arm, and you tumbled into his chest in surprise. "What are you doing?!" you yelled at him, clinging to his shoulder and looking up at him with ire. "You could've hit your head!"

He looked down at you with a flat expression, or is that a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes? “Can't a husband cuddle his wife?”

You blinked dumbly, caught off-guard. “Yes, you can, but...”

His arms then enveloped you, fitting you on his chest and he sighed against your hair. “Then there’s nothing wrong with it. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

And so, that was how he decided to sleep throughout the night—with you on top of him, held close. You felt self-conscious as Zayne had never initiated this closeness with you since that night.

"Are you sure you want to sleep this way?" you wriggled a bit in his grasp.

He draped an arm around your waist, pressing his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."

"You..." A part of you recoiled at the vulnerability but decided to ask anyway. "Won't this be… a mistake...?"

That caught his attention, as Zayne's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, who avoided his gaze with a pout and a torn expression, making yourself small in his embrace.

It dawned on him then that this persisting issue in your marriage was thoroughly his fault. His past was something he could never—and would never—trade for anything, but right now, you were that sense of peace that grounded him.

At one point, he has to let it go. These feelings inside him… they drive him to.

He softened, his gaze full of understanding as he gently brushed your hair back. "No," he said quietly, his voice tender. "We’ve come too far for it to be one."

Your clear, innocent eyes reluctantly met his, and at that moment something akin to clarity resonated within him.

He once thought nothing could ever mend the hollowness in his heart. And once, he indeed hoped that being with you would provide some form of relief or replace what he had lost.

But right now, feeling how vulnerable you were in his arms like this, he understood that you were not, and could never be, a replacement for anything else. Even before he realized it himself, what he felt for you was something entirely different— something dear that had grown and evolved into a genuine affection different from what he had felt for anyone else before.

Those times spent with you, wanting to protect you... Now that he reflected on it, it was never about filling a void, after all.

“I... want to treasure you better.”

Oh. Your heart thumped loudly as those words left his lips, warmth spreading through your entire being. Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, you clung to his chest, feeling a surge of love and a profound sense of being freed from the chains of insecurity that had taken you hostage all these years.

Most precious. Zayne smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This time for sure... I will.”

And at last... he could say it without any lingering guilt.

[perereiii]

.

[neuvistar]

LOTUS FLOWER. pt one.

— featuring ┊ genshin men (neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, kaveh, alhaitham) x f!pregnant reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊nsfw. not proofread. all consensual! mentions of breeding k!nk, t!tplay (neuvillette), vaginal fingering (lyney?), implied semi-public s3x (wriothesley), s!ze kink if u squint (alhaitham), dirty talk obvi, them being absolute sweethearts, reader implied 2 be physically smaller than them, cunnilingus (kaveh), nicknames used, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊ this is part one guys!! part two will come soon! since i’m a little late for kinktober (oops) i’ve decided to try n do this thingy of my own </3 genshin men w a pregnant partner n maybe i’ll do separate oneshots too throughout the month if im not busy enough, i’ll try my best! i also took time 2 try n improve my writing style n i think it paid off.. anyways reblogs + feedback appreciated ! (guys i wroye this when i’m half asleep #help)

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

— "love, you're too cute when you pout like that," neuvillette chuckled, lightly pecking your cheeks with soft chaste kisses

NEUVILLETTE has always been your caretaker during your hard months of pregnancy, he was always there to aid you even if he had such a tight schedule! trust me, he’s always there to aid you no matter where he is.. oh you’re craving something? he already had it made and prepared downstairs for you to eat, oh you’re in pain? he’s already massaging your body to calm your nerves, oh you want him to get something for you? he’s already making his way downstairs to get it! let’s all be honest, this dragon is one of the sweetest darlings ever.. he’s just so thrilled that you’re carrying his little dragonlings, he couldn’t be happier! neuvillette’s so gentle with you.. even during intimate moments. neuvillette always has you laying down on a soft surface, his lips dancing across your flesh as his hair tickled your sensitive skin, he knows how to make sure you feel good.. sometimes he gets too lost in the moment he doesn’t even notice the littlest things! trust me, he knows how to make you feel good, he knows how to calm your hormones.. he knows how to pleasure you. neuvillette knows it all.

here you were, laid down comfortably on the mattress.. the sheets beneath you warming you up as you tugged on your husband’s white locks, emitting a soft grunt from him. neuvillette had been too caught up in the moment to notice only a little milk dripping from your other breast. instead, he kissed and sucked at your other one passionately, his hands caressing your waist in between bouts of fondling your tits. the sight of your exposed body sent a deep and primal wave of lust through him, it was enough to send him into pure euphoria as the feeling of your body against him was a kiss from the heavens above and the archons themselves. “my sweet angel," neuvillette whispered gently, his voice soft yet full of passion. "i want to love you from head to toe, i want every part of you to scream my name in delight.. i want you to experience pleasure beyond your wildest imagination. please, let me give you more litters of dragonlings inside this irresistible body of yours..”

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄

— “you’re positive, right? you sure you’re alright?” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against your neck

WRIOTHESLEY honestly never thought of having kids himself, but that all changed when you announced your pregnancy to him a few months prior.. he was thrilled! a little shocked and nervous to say the least, since he was nervous he wouldn’t be a good husband and father to your future kids but it went by smoothly, wriothesley had a major soft spot for you and only you. his face always fills with love and joy as he took note of your swollen and pregnant belly, sometimes he lets you wander around the fortress but sometimes he knows you’re sensitive to many smells and all that so he just keeps you in the house. but yet sometimes.. he has too much on his hands that he never has time to come home. visiting him at work became a frequent thing but he grew more protective of you, telling w few workers down at the fortress to scram if they bother you too much. wriothesley loves having you around his office, but yet, huh.. who knew visiting him here could also have it’s benefits.

wriothesley held your knees, his large hands engulfing your flesh as he grunted at the mere pulse of your pussy around his cock. he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, someone could walk in any moment but who was he to deny his own wife? he can’t deny you when you’re all shy and embarrassed like that.. asking him to fuck you and breed you just like he did those few months before, who was he to deny a request like that? the larger male had kept a slow and steady rhythm with you, he promised himself he wouldn’t listen to your begging.. begging for him to go faster. but i guess it’s fine to break promises every now and then, right? wriothesley picked up the pace as he rubbed his thumb against your clit, the feeling of his cock pounding deep inside your cunt was enough to send you to the moon. “fuck.. taking me so well, princess.. ‘gonna make me cum quicker than normal.” he whispered against your ear, caressing your belly ever so gently.. his gentleness corresponding with his harsh thrusts. “what, hm? you want someone to see you in this state? ‘want someone to catch me breeding my pretty pregnant wife in my office?— mm.. seems like y’do.. look at how much you’re sucking me in.”

𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄

— “oh? someone’s moody today.. did i do something wrong, sweetheart? you know i didn’t mean it, c’mon! talk to me.”

LYNEY was one of the main reasons for your constant smiles and giggles throughout the day, your baby isn’t even born yet and he’s already an excellent father! the magician always sits down and chats with you, chatting about all sorts of things. what you both can name your baby(s), what magic tricks he can teach to them, how adorable they’ll look in clothes he bought for them.. he’s excited to be a father and he makes that clear! he spreads the news to lynette and freminet, and sometimes he might accidentally spread the news throughout public eyes. i mean, in a positive way! lyney takes great pride in being the father of your kids, he wants you to stay healthy and happy so your pregnancy goes smoothly, that’s all he wants. lyney’s touch is always so gentle.. caressing you like you were a mere piece of glass he had to protect.. there was something about his touch that just never fails to make you squirm, he’s good with his hands, of course you know that.. he’s just so gentle with you in many ways possible, it drives you absolutely insane sometimes.

“yeah? you like that? hmm.. how about you show me where else you would like me to touch you, go on.” his voice was just as hypnotic as his gaze.. lyney’s lips pressed against your neck as he waited for you to show him. “c’mon, you can do this.” he urged you on, you could feel your hands moving on their own as your hands made their way to your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples in between your fingers with your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy, sending nothing but deep electric vibrations throughout your body. “l—lyney.. here. i want you to touch me here.” your voice was laced with honey, the magician could’ve sworn he could taste and sense the need and want in your tone, it only made him desire you more. “mm.. we both know that’s not all, sweetheart. show me another, and show me how you want me to touch you there.” your other hand came down slowly, lazily playing with your clit as your body shook at the even the softest touch. lyney hummed against your ear as he pressed his finger gently against your lips, trying to silence you as he gazed down at your swollen belly the blonde magician held you close, pumping two fingers inside your hole, smirking against your skin. “there, there.. good girl. such a good girl for me, are you?”

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇, 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓

— “alright.. i have this, this and this for you. do you need anything else? still hungry?”

KAVEH is a a good and caring husband.. though sometimes he’s a little too busy, which often frustrates you since he isn’t there to support and be by your side half of the time. honestly, you can’t blame him sometimes, he always comes home late with a shit ton of papers and piles and piles of sketches and drawings he made that day, kaveh’s always busy, you can’t stop or deny that. most of the time, he makes up to you by providing you with the things you like.. like food you’ve been craving! kaveh adores talking to his baby within your belly, always talking about how ‘papa is always there for them’ and how much he loves them. to put it in a more easier way, the young architect considers your pregnancy an absolute blessing, you were sure he kissed the floor and thanked every star in the universe when he found out you were expecting his little one, he was overjoyed! despite his busy tasks, kaveh will be willing to provide you with anything you want. especially pleasure.

“you want me to please you here?” his voice rung in your ears, nodding slowly as you bit your lip. you missed this, you missed him. kaveh had too many rough and difficult schedules already, you missed him and his touch.. you missed everything, but tonight he was gonna give it all. your lashes slowly fluttered open as your hands tightened your grip on his shoulder, kaveh smiled softly, his eyes looking deep into yours with affection. "i’m giving you what you want now, sweet angel.” the architect caressed your thighs as he slowly lifted your dress up and started to caress your stomach. "you’ve certainly become quite attractive with your pregnancy bumps," he whispered softly, smiling warmly before he allowed his urges take over, closing his eyes as his tongue mingled with your folds, giving small kitty licks before pushing himself further into you, savouring your juices. he was slow, yes.. but he wanted to get used to your taste again, flicking his muscle against your sensitive bundles of nerves as he allowed himself to get lost in your taste, palming the bulge through his pants. “let go, lovely. let me claim you once more.”

𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌, 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄

— “tell me, go on. what do you need? i’m in all ears.”

AL-HAITHAM is a hard individual to read, that’s for sure. sometimes you couldn’t really tell if he was happy about some story you decided to share with him and whatnot, but one thing you do know is that he’s absolutely thrilled about your pregnancy. alhaitham would be lying to himself if he said that the sight of your expanded belly didn’t awaken something in him. he’s always there, helping you around despite how busy he gets sometimes.. he’s calm and collected, sometimes you’d catch him talking to your baby when you’re asleep, talking about how pretty their mama is, and how excited he is to teach them about his own knowledge about this world they’re about to enter, he’s excited for his baby to be born and you know it. well.. maybe a little too exited.

he tried to be gentle, he really did. but you know he can’t resist you when you’re whining and whimpering like this, especially with that beautiful round belly of yours. alhaitham can’t help himself, really. he was needy, needy for you. he needed you and he needed you now. the scribe bit his lip as his large hands grabbed at your hips, lifting you further against him as his cock slid into your cunt so perfectly. alhaitham’s thoughts went blank at the sound of you calling his name in that way, as if you were speaking words of pure music. “mmh.. look at you. look at how good you’re taking me, even when you’re pregnant you’re still a slut for my cock now, aren’t you?” his hair fell onto his shoulders in wet clumps, “so fuckin’ full, so damn soft. you’re all round and smooth, the perfect body to bear our children." his dick buried myself into your walls, your juices coating it with white, “just like all my other possessions, this body is mine. maybe i should even put my name on it.. so damn perfect, yeah?”